


Unintended Side Effects

by Riehlla



Category: Overlord - Maruyama Kugane & Related Fandoms
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Abusive Parents, Background Love Triangle, Biting, Bratty Reader, Breeding, Class Based Prejudice, Come Swallowing, Copious Hickies, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Desk Sex, Edgeplay, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Fluff, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Gazef is a Cinnamon Roll, Honestly Reader is a Bitch, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Like Real Reaaaaaaal Slow, Mentions of weight loss, Missionary Position, Naked Female Clothed Male, Sloppy Makeouts, Slow Burn, Touching, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vanilla, Verbal Abuse, alternative universe, crude language, genderbent! Renner, pulling out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2020-12-31 02:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 123,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21045434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riehlla/pseuds/Riehlla
Summary: Following the turmoil of a rebellion against a mad king, a new king is crowned. And that king needs a queen. Your mother believes that you would be the best choice for that role, but you beg to differ. You don't want to be a tool in her political machinations. Besides, who would want to marry someone twelve years older--and a peasant-turned-king to boot?Realistic Overlord AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love Gazef so much, and there is a sore lack of Gazef fanfiction on this site. This fic is totally self-indulgent, but I hope someone other than me gets some enjoyment out of it lol.  
I hope you like it!

You stood in your mother's office, just five feet from the imposing oak wood desk at which your mother sat, as she finished writing a letter. Of course, it was one of the utmost importance. They usually were, especially when you were standing there, waiting for her to speak at you.

When she finished writing, your mother picked up the paper with both hands, thumbs careful not to fall on any writing, and fanned the letter up and down to expedite the drying of the ink. Again, this action was of the utmost importance as it would ensure that the ink didn't bleed into the paper in the time it took to dry. When the ink was allegedly dry enough, your mother folded the letter in half and then rummaged inside the drawer nearest her right hand in search of an envelope. Envelope retrieved, she deposited the letter inside of it in one smooth movement and then moved the stand at the left hand side of her desk in front of her. Your mother placed the envelope in front of her, back up, and grabbed the new, blue stick of wax specifically made for seals that was waiting in the side of the stand. Once the plain candle attached to the stand was lit, she warmed the sealing wax over the flame. It didn't take long for the wax to soften to the point of dripping on the closure point of the envelope. Your mother waited for five drops to fall, as usual, before reaching for her personal seal. She moved precisely and carefully. The seal looked as excellent as always, even and clear. Idly waving the stick of sealing wax back and forth, she surveyed her work. No look of disdain crossed her features. She must have approved of the seal this time. 

"Alexandra," your mother called after blowing out the candle, putting the seal and wax away in the stand, and moving the entire thing back to its previous place. 

Her lady's maid—and constant shadow—opened the door immediately and walked inside.

"Yes, my lady?" Alexandra inquired. From the corner of your eye, you glanced in the direction of the woman. She was dressed in black, as usual, her dress of simple cut and design, its simplicity emphasized by the flatness of the color in question. Alexandra was the kind of woman who could blend into the background, and she often put that skill to use in the furthering of your mother's goals—never her own. You were not sure that Alexandra had any dreams or desires outside of the purview of her bull-headed loyalty. Alexandra had also been your governess when you were a child and your constant guardian since.

"Please send one of the page boys out to deliver this message," your mother said, holding the impeccable letter out to Alexandra. She held it with the seal facing up, and Alexandra had enough good sense to not even ask after the recipient, much to your chagrin.

It was not enough that your mother had you watch her write and seal the letter: she also denied you knowledge of its intended destination. "Perhaps Matthew," your mother mused after a moment's consideration. "He's discreet."

You were under no illusion that the necessity of Matthew's discretion didn't have entirely to do with you. 

"Yes, my lady," Alexandra responded. Without another word from either party, Alexandra turned on her heel and walked briskly out of the office, making sure to quietly shut the door with her exit.

"(Name)," your mother finally addressed you.

You felt the soles of your feet starting to hurt from standing in heeled shoes in the exact position you chose almost half an hour ago. There could be no unseemly fidgeting while you were in your mother's office.

"Yes, mother?" you responded. After all this time, you finally allowed your gaze to settle on her face; she hated being stared at when she was working. 

"I called you here today for a reason,” she said, her tone even.

You said nothing in response, only waited.

"Our _ king_"—she said the word with discomfort, so used to referring to the former king by their relation—"has decided that it is time to take a bride."

No.

"Honestly, he should have found one immediately following his ascent to the throne, but I can understand his hesitation with regard to the circumstances," she added. Your mother always loved her digressions.

No, no.

"Regardless," she paused. "He is now searching for one."

No, no, no.

"And, considering that you are the eldest, unmarried woman in our family—"

Nononono.

"As well as a blood relative of King Henry, may he rest in peace—"

_ Please_. _ No_.

"Meaning that any heirs would have a doubly legitimate stake as both our new king's children and belonging to the honorable bloodline of the Vaiself—"

You had to force yourself to keep your gaze on your mother's eyes.

"I decided that you would be the most appropriate choice for the bride of the king,” she finished.

There was nothing you could say in protest. Your mother was, of course, completely right. Following the rebellion against the Mad King, most—if not all—of the commoners regarded what was left of your family with distrust, and half of the nobles were trying to put distance between you because of poor public opinion, while the other half were hoping that your family would fall from grace now that the new king had established himself. After all, his success on the political stage was what this sudden interest in marrying meant. He was finally established enough as a ruler within your broken, albeit healing, country and the world stage to even be comfortable with considering taking a bride. Becoming that bride would likely put your family back in the good graces of the country because the new king could do no wrong in the eyes of the peasants, and the nobles would be able to return to their usual sycophantic roles. Once again, your family would reign supreme, and it would all be thanks to you. 

Yet, you still found it within you to protest. “But why must it be me?” You couldn’t help the petulant whine that permeated the words you spoke.

Your mother bristled at your tone. “I told you why.” She never explained herself twice. 

“But he’s so old,” you found yourself complaining. His age was a valid concern—there was no way your mother could tell you otherwise. 

“He’s only twelve years older than you. I am not trying to marry you to a wizened old man,” she said, but the sharp bite to her words was dangerous—you knew that. Whenever your mother approached that tone, it meant that you were truly grating on her nerves. She squared her shoulders in her chair, placing her arms on the armrests in a manner of false relaxation.

However, you wanted to marry the king even less than you didn’t want to anger your mother. “And he’s enormous!” you protested. “He’ll crush me on the wedding night!”

“(Name),” your mother warned.

“Besides, he’s of _humble_ _origins_,” you said with disdain. 

“(Name),” she snapped. 

"You always told me that rank matters!" you argued despite seeing your mother's anger.

There was a loud scrape of wood against wood as your mother abruptly stood from her chair. Her hands clapped against the perfectly shined, perfectly flat surface of the desk, and she all but yelled, "(Name)! Silence your protests this instance!"

You quieted down.

“I don’t care what you have to say about the king. There is nothing you could tell me that will make me reconsider this marriage. Do you understand?"

No, you truly didn’t understand. Your mother had raised you to view yourself and your noble birth with the utmost importance, and now she wanted you to muddy the bloodline? “Yes,” you responded.

Sitting back in her chair, your mother regarded you with an evaluatory gaze. Her eyes carefully examined your face, your hair, your neck, your neckline (and how much of your chest it left exposed), and your body's silhouette in your dress. You felt like a prized doll on display. However, at no point did your mother reveal what she was thinking. As always, her expression was completely—and infuriatingly—blank. Even her earlier display of anger was gone. It was as if she had never even had the outburst.

“In a month’s time, the royal court will hold a ball held in celebration of the king, but it shall also serve the function of introducing the king to his marriage candidates. We shall order you a new dress and jewelry. And you will be on your best behavior. You will compliment the king and mingle and charm him. You will say nary a word about his _humble_ _origins_, even in jest. Do you understand?”

You nodded slowly. Did your mother think that you had no shame, that you would gladly allow her to parade you around for the king to devour?

“Good.” She intertwined her fingers, already planning for the upcoming month. 

But all you could feel was an acute sense of dread—with an undercurrent of sore feet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small look into Rea's day-to-day life, especially with all of its recent complications. I wanted everyone to get a better idea of what she's like before I throw her into any interactions with Gazef. Speaking of which, he's coming up in the next chapter! So he'll be here soon. Hope you enjoy!

The day of the ball was fast approaching and, while you usually loved balls and all the pomp and circumstance that followed in their wake, you were not looking forward to this one—not even as you gazed upon the gorgeous dress your mother had ordered for you.

This dress was easily the finest garment that your gaze ever had the pleasure of passing upon. And the best part was that it was all yours: custom constructed to highlight your curves; dyed the deepest, loveliest shade of blue you had ever seen; and tastefully decorated with dainty dots of lapis lazuri along the skirt in the pattern of a stylized wind. You loved every piece, every _ stitch _ of this dress.

And yet, you could not even truly enjoy the beauty of this heavenly gift because you knew that your mother had ordered it with the express purpose of drawing the attention of the peasant king. Your lips pressed together in disgust. Your mother simply could not fathom the utter disdain you felt at the thought of having to entertain the man for an evening, let alone having to _ marry _ him. At the very least, she could not understand _ now_. Something had happened. Something that made her change her opinion of him, at least, if not all commoners. 

Curling your lip, you had to turn away from the gown. It did not do anything to earn your ire. In fact, it was probably the only thing stopping you from going truly mad. You looked over at the new jewelry accompanying the dress. The collection was a deceptively simple one, mostly constructed of silver, but with delicate pendants of lapis lazuri cut in swirls to mimic the decorations on your gown. Clearly, the dress and the collection of jewelry were intended to be worn together. You looked from one to the other. They were really quite lovely, especially considered together. You could only imagine how they would actually look on you. 

With this realization, you decided to push the king from your mind. You would not allow him to ruin your evening, especially since you would be the most beautiful there. His falling in love with you would simply be an unintended side effect of your loveliness.

As you walked away from your new possessions, your eyes slid over all the gowns gathered in your exceedingly large closet. Every piece of silk, satin, and gossamer hanging in that room was one of your most prized accoutrements. The necessary garments to existing within and without polite society—and lately you had been without. This awful business of your uncle going mad and then the subsequent rebellion had your mother sequestering you at the estate like some common nun. The coming ball was wonderful news because you were terribly excited to see your best friend and all those other sycophants despite the less than ideal circumstances. 

You stopped short when you saw the last gown you had worn in polite company: a gorgeous pastel pink that you had hated wearing so much. Pinching the fabric between your thumb and forefinger, you slid your fingers back and forth. There was something so utterly satisfying about the feeling of silk. But the color looked so _ wrong _ on you. Shalltear had to spend the entire evening leading you away from mirrors and assuring you that your reflection was not actually as horrible as you believed, but you knew that it really, truly was. 

Still, the dress was terribly lovely on the hanger. So convincingly lovely that you thought it would look good on you. And you had even believed its beautiful lies until you saw yourself from the side.

Perhaps the failure that this dress represented had been a harbinger of the things that came later. The lovely facade could not work with what lay underneath, and the truth came out—it looked horribly garish—just like the facade of peace could not maintain the tension between the nobles and your uncle, and then the peasants and your uncle. And now a peasant sat on the throne, and your family was being thrown aside with the refuse.

You could not stand for it.

But you did not believe that the best method of fixing your family's problems lay in your marrying the new king.

No, no. You didn't want to think about _ that_. You had to stop thinking about _ that_, or your head was going to explode. 

Finally, you exited your grand closet. There were things to do, like practicing piano for the day. It had been a while since you last saw your teacher—due to the sequestering, of course—but you refused to let your skills deteriorate as the result of a lack of instruction. Besides, you were good enough after playing every day for the last sixteen years of your life that an instructor was perhaps unnecessary, but you were fond of your teacher, and she still had plenty to teach you, even after sixteen years.

Your lady's maid, Arabella, curtsied before you. She had been waiting outside of the closet while you had gone to examine your newest possessions. You always liked to do so with the benefit of quiet and contemplation, and you absolutely could not achieve quiet and contemplation if there were someone standing five feet behind you and trying to get a look at the dress for herself.

"Are your new presents satisfactory, my lady?" she inquired.

Keeping your face carefully composed, you nodded. "Quite." You hated how she would always call your new garments and jewelry _ presents_, as if she were rubbing your face in the fact that your mother had been the one to acquire them. Indeed, it was likely she was doing just that. Your mother had been the one to appoint Arabella to you, after all. 

She gazed calmly at you from behind her dark eyes. You always felt that she was looking right through you, and she was not impressed by the contents. 

Well, you weren't exactly impressed by hers, either.

You turned in the direction of your bedroom door and walked briskly towards it. There was no need for you to announce your next destination or indicate in some way that you were heading for the piano room. Arabella most certainly knew that it was where you were heading and, if she didn't after three years of following you around for your rigidly structured days, then she was a dimwit and deserved to spend her life in constant limbo due to your refusal to announce your next destination.

As always, Arabella didn't say anything during the walk down the hallway. She was poor company. 

Walking through the open doors into the piano room, you headed for the shelf of sheet music to collect your favorite composition. At this point, you hardly needed the sheet music to be able to play this particular piece, but you had a ritual of sorts when it came to playing the piano and picking out the sheet music was the first part. With a composition selected, you headed for the grand piano standing on display in the middle of the room. It was a sleek black, constantly shined to perfection. You could see your reflection in the pure surface. 

You straightened your skirts behind you and sat down at the piano bench, your back ramrod straight as you gently pushed the fallboard up and out of the way. Now, you could position your fingers at their natural place hovering just above the keys. However, before you could even play the first note, you heard the click-clack steps you recognized as belonging to your mother.

“Oh, good. You are here,” she said. 

You placed your hands down in your lap silently, not wanting to start playing only to be interrupted.

Once your mother crossed the room to come over to you, she asked, “Did you like the dress?”

You nodded.

“And the jewelry?”

You nodded again.

Your mother’s lips pressed together into a fine line, which you knew was the precursor to her anger.

“The necklace and earrings complement the dress well,” you said.

“I was hoping to hear a little more than that,” your mother said, her smile thin and dangerous.

“It’s a very beautiful dress.” You looked forward towards the piano keys and wished that you were playing instead of having this conversation. “It is a lovely shade of blue, and the lapis decorations help draw the eye to it without being gaudy.”

“Excellent. I think so, too. Melissa’s shop did a wonderful job with this order. You’ll look wonderful in it,” she said.

But that was also what she said about the pink silk dress. Still, you didn’t bring it up. You _ couldn_’_t_. 

“Did you try the dress on?” your mother asked.

You shook your head.

“Why not?”

You could hear irritation in your mother’s tone, particularly the way she said the word _ not_. Of course, if you had tried it on without her seeing it, then she would have gotten angry that you did so without her and then insisted that you tried the dress on again. “I didn’t want to ruin it before the day of the ball.”

“Ruin it how?” She definitely sounded more annoyed now. “Are you planning on enjoying a five course meal immediately upon donning it?"

“No.” 

“Then what?”

“Mistakes or accidents can happen.”

Saying your name in an irritated manner, she pointed in the direction of your bedroom. “Go and try it on.”

You pulled on the fallboard and closed it to protect the keys. “Of course, mother,” you said. Walking back to your room, you felt like a scolded child, which you supposed that you were in your mother’s eyes. There was nothing you could do to satisfy her. In one way, getting married and being able to _ leave _ her estate would be ideal. However, you absolutely did not want to wed the man she would have be your match, and you did not really know of any other eligible bachelors in the capital, especially any of whom your mother would approve. It was also very likely that she would not approve of anyone besides the king because of matters of rank. Ironically, rank was simultaneously the reason why you did not want to marry the king.

You sighed. There was really nothing left for you to do but play the good daughter and go try on the dress.


	3. Chapter 3

Elegant and tastefully decorated, the large ballroom was a far cry from the way that your much more wasteful uncle had ordered his balls bedecked. While there were long tables with pristine, white tablecloths piled high with beautiful dishes, the furniture dotting the room was of a much simpler cut. No overstuffed, plush couches decorated with too much gold and embroidery. Instead, the furniture was simple and almost stolid in structure. The fabrics upholstering the chairs and couches were all dark, but they made for pleasant contrasts and combinations with the bright and dark colors the ladies and gentlemen attending the ball wore. There were no horrendous clashes between the bright gold threads and the smoky greens and reds some nobles favored.

The outfits the nobles wore were, of course, a different story. They were more or less successful, but certain members of the nobility had more money than taste. 

In addition, the servants no longer wore the horrendous golden uniforms that your uncle had always insisted upon. While they were still more formal than the everyday, these uniforms were much simpler in design and color. 

Still, everyone you saw seemed more relaxed than they were before, no longer anxiously glancing over their shoulders at guards and any others walking past. The guests were engaged in their conversations and, even as they glanced at you, they continued to speak amongst themselves. No one called you over or engaged you in conversation.

Walking through the ballroom, you couldn't help but feel utterly alone. All of the nobles from your country and some visiting dignitaries from others—even some very rich merchants, you noticed with disgust—were gathered at the ball in honor of the new king, yet no one at all was paying attention to you. Despite how lovely you looked and how long you spent preparing, even if it wasn't really you doing the preparing, no one spared you a glance. You supposed that this treatment was the result of the rebellion and your uncle being on its losing side. But it truly was harrowing seeing it firsthand. Your mother had not allowed you to leave the confines of the estate since all these unfortunate events began, not even to see your best friend. Perhaps she had done it to shield you from the social disgrace as much as the anti-royal sentiment, but you also knew that, as an only child, you were her sole heir, and if something happened to you, all of your mother’s planning would be ruined. 

Still, all of your mother’s scheming might simply be ruined by the simple existence of the rebellion if your family was unable to win back public opinion. And you supposed that the burden of public opinion rested on your shoulders.

You looked around the ballroom in the futile hope that someone would look back. Or that maybe you might even find your best friend somewhere, hear her arrogant laughter. You had always made fun of her for it, but now you would give anything to hear it again. 

At least you could take some solace in the fact that you simply didn't see Shalltear at the ball instead of seeing her ignoring you—that would hurt most. 

And how you were supposed to find the king and get into his good graces, you especially had no idea. He was nowhere to be seen. With nothing to do, and no one to talk to, you idly walked around the space of the ballroom. The other guests were dressed to impress, many of the women clad in eye-catching, bright colors and bodices encrusted with precious gems. One of the most heinous dresses you had seen in your position of wallflower tonight had belonged to a Lady Albedo. She wore a dress of a horrendously bright yellow and was most likely weighed down by the amount of citrine attached to it. And she was currently standing ten feet to your left and smirking at you while surrounded by her usual group of brown-nosers. You had to pretend that she wasn’t there, instead focusing on some of the other outfits in the room.

On the floor of the ballroom, the ladies and gentlemen danced to the brisk tune the musicians were playing, pinks and purples and blues and greens swirling and swaying across the floor. But, as much as you appreciated the sight of the dancers, you were annoyed that you weren’t up there with them. Before, you were always the first approached about a dance. And now you were standing off to the side, watching the dancers instead. 

“Oh my goodness gracious. Could it be?” a voice asked from behind you.

And you knew that voice. That voice was so familiar to you that you were ready to burst into tears at the sound of it. Turning, you immediately made eye-contact with your much shorter friend. She was clad in a dark pink dress, as was her signature. Her white-blonde hair was gathered in a delicate up-do. Everything about her seemed just the same, even the way she addressed you and looked at you. As if you had not been forced to cut off all communication with her for months.

Smirking, Shalltear walked in a circle all around you. She pursed her lips to the side as she proceeded to evaluate your outfit for the evening. You could see her red eyes move from from your ears and neck, to the bodice of your dress and down to your hands, before arriving at the skirt. And she did this movement several times as she revolved around you. Once Shalltear arrived back to your front, she clasped your hands in hers and announced, “You are stunningly beautiful.”

You could not help but grin at her comment.

“No, I am but a weed compared to the flower that you are,” you responded. 

Shalltear bared her teeth in an almost feral grin. “You flatterer.”

The two of you laughed at your exchange. It really did feel like nothing had changed between the two of you. You were so relieved that you were surprised at the intensity of the emotion. You had been so worried that Shalltear had moved on or found another friend in the time that you had been sequestered. So, so worried.

Shalltear’s brows drew together in surprise. Her grin fell from her lips. Raising one small hand to your cheek, she tutted, albeit quietly, “Why are you crying in the middle of the ball?”

The information that you were crying came as a complete and utter surprise to you, but you supposed that it did explain why it was suddenly so much harder to see her face.

“You’ll ruin all that pretty paint,” she said. Turning, Shalltear dragged you to a private corner of the large room, sat you down on an empty couch, and pulled a handkerchief from a hidden pocket in her skirt. She carefully dabbed at your cheeks and eyes, cleaning the traitorous evidence of your tears without smearing the make-up that Arabella had carefully worked on earlier.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Shalltear smiled.

“No, I mean about before. I didn’t write. Mother wouldn’t let me. She said that it would be pointless anyway. That someone might interfere and look at the silly things I had written down.”

Shalltear frowned at your words, the lines growing firmer around her mouth when you called your letters to her _ silly things_. 

“I thought that your mother got in the way. It’s perfectly fine.” She gave you a reassuring smile as she finished cleaning up your face. Once Shalltear was done, she patted your still-moist cheek. "I did my best not to ruin your make-up, but please refrain from crying again this evening or might not be salvageable next time," Shalltear said. Her words might have been critical, but she delivered them with a light tone and a smile. Relief passed through you as if it were a physical wave of comfort.

All could be right in the world if you had Shalltear beside you.

"Lady Shalltear," you heard a polite, deep voice. 

"Oh." Shalltear said airily. Her eyes darted from the new person to you, standing up quickly but elegantly before lowering herself into a deep curtsy. "King Gazef. What a pleasure to see you here at the ball you are hosting."

You froze in place on the couch. The king. Now? While it was true that you had done a less than exemplary job in looking for him, you didn't think that you would coincidentally find him now. Your eyes were undoubtedly red from the earlier spilled tears. How embarrassing! Cursing whatever sadistic being decided to inflict this torture upon you, you turned to the king.

"Your majesty," you said as you stood up and followed Shalltear's lead. You did not make eye contact with him, preferring to act the modest girl in such an uncomfortable situation. However, every moment you stayed with your knees bent and head bowed, you felt nothing but utter humiliation. Why did you—someone truly of royal blood—have to bow your head to a usurper? But you supposed that it was thanks to him that your head was still attached to your shoulders. Even you heard that the peasants cried for the execution of your entire bloodline, lest the madness spread.

Traitors.

"Please. You don't have to do that," Gazef said. His voice seemed uncomfortable.

When you stood, you kept your head bowed demurely, looking for all the world like an anxious, innocent girl. He was dressed in a military uniform, with a coat of deep aubergine and slacks of solid jet, complete with gold accents and his large collection of medals for military service. The color of the coat was unlike that of a traditional military uniform as it was always crimson, but Gazef was now royalty, and only royalty was permitted to wear purple. You thought back to all of the dresses you owned dyed in such a hue that you were no longer permitted to wear. It was almost as if he were reminding you of that fact on purpose.

"You must be (Name)," Gazef spoke to you.

Only when he did so did you look up, and you gave the king a small smile.

"Yes. I am honored you recognize me," you spoke softly.

Gazef's brows furrowed slightly when he got a better look at your face and your likely red eyes, but he was polite enough not to say anything. "Of course," he smiled gently at you. "Your mother used to bring you to the palace when you were still small." Frowning, Gazef then said, "But she stopped. I always wondered why."

You froze in place, and it took a casual touch from Shalltear on your arm to remind you to breathe again. “I wish I knew.” You met his gaze and gave him a smile, but it felt false on your lips. 

Your newest burst of emotion must have been clear on your face because Gazef immediately furrowed his brow. “I apologize. I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Oh, you didn’t upset me,” you lied. Shaking your head, you forced your lips into something more reassuring. “Please, do not worry yourself over me.” You waved your hand dismissively.

The king looked at you for a long time before he forced his lips into a similarly forced smile. However, it seemed to take on a genuine quality after a few moments on his mouth.

You wondered if that's how he made his way onto the throne: smiling pleasantly at people even when he didn't want to do so. Well, you knew all about that activity, but no one ever offered you a throne.

Moving your head towards Shalltear, you said, "It seems as though you met the king before, Shalltear."

She nodded, a casual smile taking the place of her almost-expressionless face—which you recognized as her way of expressing concern. "The king works closely with my father, so we have been seeing much of each other recently." 

"Ah," you said. That knowledge must infuriate your mother. You might be best friends with Shalltear, but Lord Bloodfallen's relationship with your own mother was something else entirely.

"Yes. He is my advisor on matters of economy," Gazef helpfully added.

You glanced back at him. "That makes sense." And now, Lord Bloodfallen held the role that your mother used to perform for your uncle. Insult to injury. You had absolutely no idea why your mother was insisting that you marry Gazef. She had ruined political rivals for less. However, you supposed that she had no way of ruining the king. Not when he held so much more favor than her. And she could potentially reacquire all the power she held before once you were queen. No, no. Your mother's motives did make sense, even if you didn't want to be her tool. 

"I have not seen him here tonight, Shalltear," Gazef said.

"Oh, father is somewhere," she said airily. _ Probably drinking too much_, she was too polite to say. Shalltear liked her father about as much as your mother did.

"And where is your mother, (Name)?" Gazef inquired. "It has been a long time since we spoke."

For a moment, you hesitated, just as she had instructed you. "She had every intention of attending, but she felt ill shortly before we had to leave," you said apologetically. 

"That's alright," he said with a grin. "Health should come first. Especially before events like these. I would have loved to be able to ignore it, but my advisors were strictly opposed to that idea."

You and Shalltear laughed in response. "How unfortunate that they didn't approve," you said. Truly, it was. Then you wouldn't have needed to stand here and pretend to enjoy his company.

Laughing, he agreed.

Well, at the very least, you had not lost your touch. The king seemed much more relaxed than he had been before. But you weren't sure if you could truly call him _ charmed_, either.

Shalltear engaged the king in conversation about something you didn't quite listen to, but you noticed the way his eyes flicked to you briefly. 

Hm. Perhaps he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gazef's not really charmed by Rea—not yet anyway—just concerned about her! He's a nice dude. Oh whale.  
They met! How exciting!  
And a little Albedo appearance there. I figure that I might as well keep the rivalry between Albedo and Shalltear over Ains canon, and since Rea is Shalltear's friend, she's not getting any sympathy from Albedo. It'll be fun.  
See you next time!


	4. Chapter 4

As the king walked away, you watched his silhouette in his military uniform as you had not the chance when he had approached. 

Gazef truly was a large person. He was tall, with broad shoulders and large, well-built limbs. However, he carried himself with a sort of focused, assured elegance. He was not lumbering or anything of the sort as you had been afraid. The most you had seen of the king before he acquired the role was always far away and stationary, usually at attention. 

Of course, he had seemed so big when you were younger and smaller, but you were no longer quite as small. Sliding your gaze over to the actually small woman beside you, you wondered what she thought of the king.

"Shalltear?" you asked, meaning to catch her attention.

"Yes?" she inquired in response. However, her voice sounded as though her mind was already far away.

"What do you think?" You wanted to keep your inquiry casual. Perhaps your manner would help this conversation not devolve.

She looked at you in full, tilting her head to the side. "About?"

No way about it, you supposed. "The king."

Shalltear considered your question and turned her gaze to the king, who was still within eyesight. "He's a very gentle person. I didn't expect that from a former mercenary."

"No. Well, yes. But"—you sighed in exasperation—"his _ person_." You emphasized the last word in the hopes that you wouldn't have to be any more explicit in speech.

"His person?" Shalltear looked from him, to you, and then back to him. "Do you mean his body, my dear (Name)?"

You could feel heat blossom behind your cheekbones. She wasn't wrong, but did she have to be so crude? Anyone who heard might think you _ lecherous_. "His rather generous dimensions," you corrected.

To call Shalltear's subsequent grin at your reluctant confirmation that you were, indeed, talking about the king's body inappropriate would have been kind. "Oh, my dear, sweet (Name). Are you finally growing up?"

The subtle heat in your face turned into an inferno. "Nevermind," you muttered, finding interest in the pattern of the tile on the floor. It was truly fascinating, made to represent the sun with the large, circular structure in the middle with small, pointed rays surrounding the circle. The sun was a light marble while the rest of the tile, which was not much, was a beautiful black. Your mother had explained to you that the design of the tile was supposed to be a representation of the royal family bringing light to the uncultured masses, but you had always thought that the tile was pretty and enjoyed tracing the pattern with your pointer finger when you were a child. It certainly gave you something to do while your mother attended torturously long meetings with the former king and the rest of the advisers. 

She had been so mad when she found you seated on the floor, crumpling your pretty dress, and playing with the tile. 

However, your mother had been right. Your behavior was quite unbecoming of a member of the royal family. 

"Oh, (Name), noticing the male form is perfectly natural. You are an adult," she said, but you weren't sure if she was making a statement or reminding you of the fact. "And the king is a _ wonderful _ specimen."

You felt your cheeks burn even more at the way she said _ that_. "I am not attracted to him," you hissed out, more in embarrassment than anger.

Shalltear furrowed her brows.

"He's a. Large. Man. Isn't he?" you ground out. 

She smirked. "I suppose."

For a moment, you blinked at her, but then you remembered her love, the mysterious Lord Gown. He was even taller and broader than the king. You supposed that Gazef might not be so large in comparison but, objectively, he was a large man.

"I see," you muttered.

You hoped that Shalltear would drop the matter now that you had said everything you wanted to say, but she did not.

"But if you're worried about the size of his member, then that's an entirely different story."

Shalltear was not as explicit as she could have and had been—that you knew—but you couldn't help the way you widened your eyes at the mention of. Oh. How scandalous. 

"If it is in any way in scale with the rest of his body"—Shalltear paused meaningfully and tried to catch your eye—"then I'm sure that you'll be a happy woman."

You were too busy looking around the room to see if anyone was listening to your conversation to look at Shalltear or even dignify her comment with a response. However, now that you engaged Shalltear in such a conversation, she would not let the matter rest.

"Of course, he might be disappointing. That's possible. But I had gotten a few glimpses here and there. You know how deliciously tight mens' pants are."

You didn't.

"And he seemed sizable even while flaccid."

Would it be too much to ask for Lady Albedo to come along and distract Shalltear from the current topic?

"He might even be bigger than expected."

You would even accept Lord Gown's presence despite knowing that Shalltear would spend the rest of the evening discussing him—anything to distract her.

"But why are you worrying about the royal cock?" Shalltear inquired, looking directly at you.

In response, you only stared at her with wide eyes and burning cheeks.

Shalltear laughed, the sound almost sadistic.

"I'm not," you argued petulantly.

"Fine, fine, fine," she said. Grinning, she stared at you in a suggestive manner. The left corner of her mouth tugged into a smirk. "So why are you so interested in the king?"

"I'm not," you insisted. Because she continued to stare at you in that way, you had to direct your eyes back to the tile floor. "Mother wants me to become the new queen."

Immediately, Shalltear's amused expression fell. "Of course she does." The two of you stood in silence. "Yes, it all makes sense now. I thought you might be averse our new king's ascent, so the innocent act seemed out of place. But I understand."

"Shalltear—" you started.

"No, no. It's fine. You can't defy your mother." Looking around, she sat down on the couch the two of you previously occupied and indicated that you should sit down beside her with a pat on the surface. When you did, Shalltear asked, "And how do you plan to charm your way into the king's attention?"

"I think he's already paying attention to me."

Nodding, Shalltear said, "Well. Yes. He did seem more than a little interested in speaking to you. But not _ that _ way." You thought about the way he looked at you, how he noticed that you had been crying, and his later apology for bringing up a delicate matter. The idea that the king thought he was at all worthy of being privy to your feelings was revolting. But Shalltear wasn't wrong. "Well?" she asked.

"I thought I might speak to him."

Shalltear rolled her eyes. "Every single woman save for _ Albedo _ and myself likely wants to _ speak _ to the king tonight. I'm sure some might even try to _ speak _ their way into his bed."

Ignoring the lewd comment, you thought about the implications of her statement. This ball was the first time that the king was inviting people into the castle since he took power. It was the perfect opportunity to get him alone for a base method like seduction. Your mother would be irate if you failed so quickly in securing the king's attention. She would likely never forgive you. But even she would never approve of you doing _ that _ to attract the king. Or so you thought. Perhaps, she would even think such a method appropriate in the face of losing this opportunity to resecure favor within the empire.

Panic settled deep into your belly. 

"I'm not saying you should try to get into his bed, mind you. The king is too honorable to start a scandal of this sort. Or take your virginity without it being in the context of a marriage bed. Besides, you can't seduce someone if you don't know how to do so." Reaching towards you, Shalltear patted your hand. You turned to look at her.

"Then what should I do?" you asked. You had never had to be the one doing the charming. All you had done before was show up to a ball, and all the suitors would find their way to you.

For a long time, Shalltear didn't say anything. What if there was nothing for you to do?

"We can capitalize on his fondness for you. And his pity."

Your stomach turned at the thought of him _ pitying _ you. "But how? There are so many people around him. I can't approach him without having to get close to them."

Shalltear furrowed her brow. "Since when do you balk before the other nobles?"

"Since they turned against my uncle and then tried to have me and my mother beheaded," you hissed.

Shrugging, she admitted, "I suppose you have a fair point."

You only huffed in response. 

"I'll be there with you. I'm in high favor right now. I can shield you from them," she offered.

But what if you started crying again? You felt vaguely ill.

"Come on." Shalltear stood, not giving you the opportunity to continue on your train of thought. She held out her arm, the elbow out, so you could rest your arm in hers. And you stood, took her offered arm. You did trust Shalltear. So, so much.

The two of you walked. While the skirts of your dresses rubbed against one another, they produced a pleasant, almost whispering sound as you moved. It was elegant, just like your walk. You and Shalltear had practiced walking together as young girls in anticipation of balls, and the practice had not gone to waste.

As you penetrated the thickest throng of nobles and other guests, you noticed that the king was comfortably settled among them. He laughed and joked with the gathered men and women immediately surrounding him, while the others looked on, wishing that they could be there. You couldn't help the way your jaw tightened at the sight. All of them looked so _ cozy_.

"Ah! Shalltear! (Name)!" Gazef said as you approached. His bombastic voice pierced the chatter. The king seemed slightly more open than he had been previously, and you spied a delicate flute half-relieved of its champagne.

Without warning, you could feel the collective gaze settle upon you. Shalltear inclined her head respectfully, and you followed her lead.

Gazef walked over to the two of you, interrupting whatever conversation he was holding.

"If you would permit my intrusion, Lady Shalltear," Gazef began.

"Oh, of course, your majesty," she responded amicably.

Gazef turned to you. His dark eyes captured your gaze. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Lady (Name), would you do me the honor of joining me for a dance?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shalltear is so fun to write! I love writing her make fun of Rea!  
Till next time!


	5. Chapter 5

You were seated in the garden of the Bloodfallen estate, looking like the picture of a lady in your elegantly simple white dress. Clad in her own afternoon tea-appropriate dress, Shalltear spoke quickly, recalling every word exchanged and every interaction shared between her and her beloved. While you did not particularly care about matters that had occurred largely with you present, you played the role of the dutiful friend and indulged Shalltear. Of course, there were times where your eyes slid behind her to the lush bushes and tall flowers surrounding the tea table in a semblance of privacy, but you would quickly remember what it was that you were supposed to be doing. In the meantime, you tried very hard not to think about what had happened the previous night.

"He's so terribly handsome," Shalltear spoke dreamily.

"Yes," you agreed. You strove to keep your tone bland and focused instead on lifting your tea cup off its saucer without splashing the dark liquid at all. It was a good skill to have and yet one so difficult to master. 

"And so tall," she added.

You could only nod in agreement.

"Taller than the king," she added as a slight jab, likely as revenge for your not sharing her enthusiasm about her beloved.

You froze in place, teacup halfway up to your face from the saucer on the garden table, and looked at her with wide, betrayed eyes. He was precisely the person about whom you did not want to think.

Laughing with relish, Shalltear said, "I'm just teasing!" But she didn't stop laughing, and she threw her head back with the joy her amusement brought her. Her pale blonde hair shuffled delicately around her shoulders with her movement. At home, Shalltear did not bother to wear her elaborate bonnets. Your friend sat back in her chair—quite unladylikely, you noted—and comfortably settled her arms on the arms of the chair. She looked like the picture of relaxation. It was too bad that her comfort came at the cost of your discomfort.

Placing the teacup back down on the table, you responded, "You said that the last three times." You pouted.

Shalltear shrugged a delicate shoulder. "Perhaps you should stop taking yourself so seriously."

When you only pouted in response, she laughed again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I promise I'll stop."

Though you did not stop pouting, you said, "Fine."

Shalltear continued to howl with laughter, which did nothing to improve your mood. Once she quieted down, she said, "Lord Gown was so handsome last night. He was wearing such a beautifully tailored suit."

You nodded, no longer trusting her to refrain from teasing you about the king. 

"However, I am disappointed that he did not want to dance," she said. Last night, Shalltear had only been able to wait for so long, and she ended up asking Lord Gown to dance. Though you were used to such forward behavior from Shalltear, you were worried about Lord Gown's response. However, the man smiled fondly at her request before refusing, claiming that he was horrendous at that particular art, but he would love to see her display her own talents. You remembered how she teased him about sending her after another man when the one she preferred was right before her. How Shalltear could admit her feelings so readily baffled you.

"It was unfortunate," you agreed.

"But at least he didn't ask that whore Albedo," Shalltear muttered, mostly to herself.

Hearing Shalltear refer to society's new sweetheart in such a manner made you snort into your teacup. Shalltear smirked. 

"But I think the most shocking part of the evening was the king asking you to dance," she said.

Your smile fell at the reminder.

"You were lovely. Don't you worry," she assured you.

"I thought that we agreed that you wouldn't talk about it!" you complained.

Shalltear cackled from her side of the table. "If I don't force you to talk about it, then you never will."

"Stop!" You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks at the reminder. Never had you felt so embarrassed after a dance. The entire time you were dancing with the king, you could feel the gazes of all the guests, watching, scrutinizing. He had been the perfect partner, but you were so worried about making a mistake the entire time. Besides, who was he to touch you? The whole situation bothered you so much that you could hardly look straight at him, something that he had mistaken for shyness. You remembered how he had smiled down at you and told you that there was nothing to be worried about, that your dancing was excellent, and your form was perfect. How patronizing. 

"But the king was an excellent dancer. I'm sure that decades of training his body as a fighter translated well," Shalltear mused.

"It was horrendous," you said.

Tilting her head, Shalltear regarded your serious expression with one of her own. "How so?"

"He touched me."

"Yes. Your hand. And then your arm. Perhaps even your side but only accidentally," Shalltear said, unimpressed.

"But he's not. Not." You struggled with the words.

"Noble?" Shalltear offered helpfully.

"Yes."

"So what?" she inquired. "He is the king. His birth does not matter now. All of the nobles have accepted him."

"Not all," you said petulantly.

Shalltear rolled her eyes. The importance of rank was a topic about which the two of you never agreed. For Shalltear, it was not the first reason to cite when looking down upon others. "Your _ mother _ has accepted the king."

"You don't know that."

"She wants you to marry him."

"That means nothing!" you argued. "She likely just wants to return our family to its previous rank."

"If his prior lack of rank repulsed her as much as it repulses you, then she would seek other methods. She's smart enough to get what she wants regardless of any circumstances," Shalltear pointed out. She was no longer as jovial as she had been.

However, she was right.

While your becoming queen was certainly the fastest and easiest route, it was not the only one. Many of the nobles liked acting as though they were now the superiors, but your family still maintained all of its properties and wealth. If the king had truly meant to remove you from power, then he very well could have. He could have claimed that the abuses your uncle inflicted upon the people—whatever they might be; personally, you had not heard of any that demanded execution—invalidated your family and, thus, your claims. King Gazef could have taken everything away from you. Sparing a thought to your home and, most importantly, your piano and closet, you realized that all of them could have been gone, and none of the nobles would have even raised a finger to help. They would have relished the sight of your family brought so low. And, as much as you loved and trusted Shalltear, she would be able to do little publically once Lord Bloodfallen ordered her to end her connections with you.

"Yes," you agreed.

Shalltear raised her perfectly sculpted brows. "And what were you thinking so much about?"

"It's odd that the king did not destroy my family when he had the chance," you mused.

Tilting her head towards her left, Shalltear shrugged. "I suppose."

"Many noble families would have supported such a move," you said.

"They would have." She nodded. Neither of you had to mention that her father would have been in full agreement with such a plan.

"Then why didn't he?" you asked, mostly to yourself.

Rolling her eyes, Shalltear said, "Because the king is actually a good person. For example, I do not understand how he could possibly tolerate my father, but he can even accomplish such feats of unbearable sacrifice." 

You wanted to disagree immediately. The king was most certainly _ not _ a good person. You were sure of it. However, Shalltear was not someone you could convince otherwise. "Perhaps you have a point," you muttered.

Shalltear blinked for a moment, as if unsure whence your reluctant acknowledgement came, before her lips spread in a wide, and almost unsettling, grin. "Liar."

"Me? No," you tutted. Raising your teacup to your lips, you took a proper sip of tea. It was already lukewarm. How disappointing. 

“Then why else would he leave your mother to be a thorn in his side another day?” Shalltear pushed. She leaned forward in her chair, placing her elbows on the table—in another very unladylike action—and settled you with an unblinking gaze. “Please. Regale me with your wisdom, my dear (Name).”

Shifting uncomfortably on your chair, you tried to think of a reason that would make the most sense. “Perhaps he means to humiliate us in some manner, later. He might simply be putting off the inevitable, so that we may grow complacent and think we are safe.”

“Do you really think so?” Shalltear asked. She was giving you the chance to back down on your ridiculous theory—you knew that—and you knew that it was ridiculous. However, you wanted to admit that you couldn’t think of anything that sounded feasible even less.

“I wouldn’t put it past him.” You doubled down, instead.

“King Gazef is perhaps the kindest, most considerate person I’ve met in all my time at court.”

“No? Not Lord Gown?”

At the mention of her beloved, Shalltear’s expression melted into one of pure happiness. “I think that Lord Gown is many things, and one of those things is certainly considerate. But he’s not terribly kind, no.” She shrugged. “Kindness is not my priority. However.” Shalltear gave you a glare. “The king would get nothing from putting off the inevitable, as you said. All he would be doing is giving your mother the opportunity to parade herself—but mostly you—around as victims of this entire debacle and sway popular opinion towards you, instead. She has already started doing so, as a matter of fact. There are all sorts of rumors going around the court and the populace about the cruelty that your uncle had turned towards his own family before the new king led the rebellion against him.”

“Rumors?” you asked. “What?”

Shalltear nodded. “Yes. Rumors, indeed. You are out of the loop.”

You frowned. “But my uncle loved us.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that too loud or where many people can hear you.” Sitting back in her chair, Shalltear brought a cup of tea to her lips. 

At Shalltear’s suggestion, your frown only etched itself deeper into the lines of your mouth. “Regardless of how these rumors may benefit my family, I don’t believe that we ought to allow them to tarnish what was left of my uncle’s reputation.”

Shrugging once again, Shalltear responded, “Truthfully, there isn’t much left to tarnish.”

You cocked your head in confusion.

“I know that your mother keeps you sheltered, but your uncle, prior to the rebellion, had sent companies of soldiers out into the countryside to ‘investigate’ rural towns for spies. And he had the royal guard out in the city every day looking for spies and traitors to the crown. He even had many nobles brought in for questioning and seized their property in the meantime.”

At Shalltear’s words, you froze. “What?” 

She nodded slowly. “Indeed.”

Though you continued to sit in place, the entirety of your body was shaking. “Why would she keep something like this from me?” you asked. 

“I don’t know,” Shalltear said. Drawing her elbow to rest on the arm of the chair, Shalltear leaned her head down to her left hand. “Knowing your mother, to preserve your unyielding loyalty to your family. To keep you doing anything and everything for her.”

You frowned. “I’m not her lapdog.”

Shalltear hummed in response and turned her face away from you to look out on the garden. “Of course not,” she agreed. But you knew that her agreement was more a result of exasperation after many arguments in the past rather than a true consensus. “But you have to admit that your mother prefers to keep you in the dark when it comes to certain matters.”

You couldn’t argue.

“Even when it would be better for you to know.”

Looking down at your lap, you made a noise of acknowledgement. Not of what she was saying—heavens no! Rather, it was a noise notifying Shalltear that you heard what she said since you refused to reestablish eye contact.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

You only felt shame.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, I'll put in some real interactions with Gazef. Oh whale.

Arriving at the road leading to the front door of your family's home, you were greeted by a most unpleasant sight: a coach complete with the king's new coat of arms. 

You had seen the gaudy design at the castle, and you instantly recognized it.

Was it too late to tell the driver to turn around and drive back to the Bloodfallen estate? Had anyone seen your coach? Your eyes slid over to your chaperone, seated across from you. Alexandra watched your lack of movement with an even gaze. Would she believe your hastily concocted story? Surely, she noticed your earlier panic. 

Much to your dismay, the butlers opened the double doors in anticipation of your arrival. Besides, after _ that _ conversation, you doubted that Shalltear would be happy to see you again so soon.

The coach creaked and shifted as the driver moved out of his seat. His shoes clacked noisily against the paved driveway as he jumped out. This particular driver was young and spry enough for such movement. He opened the left hand door of the coach. "We are home, my lady," said the driver helpfully when he realized that you weren't moving. 

Your eyes flicked from his face to the ground before you. "Yes," you responded. "We are."

For the first time in your entire life, you were reluctant to leave the confines of the coach. You knew that, once inside, you would have to find your mother—your mother who was likely entertaining the _ king—_to tell her that you had returned. You had to tell her. If you didn't, then you risked Arabella or Alexandra finding her first and reporting to her about your insubordination. However, upon intruding upon your mother and the king, you would then have to spend time with him, with your mother as mediator, no less. But you didn’t want to see her—not after finding out that she was keeping such important information from you.

Your eyes ran desperately over the interior of the coach: the red velvet cushions, the walnut walls, and the red curtains. You avoided the piercing gaze of Alexandra's uninterested eyes. Perhaps you could lie and claim that you forgot something at Shalltear's. But your mother likely wanted you to interact with the king, and she would be sorely unimpressed by your paltry excuse. 

"My lady?" the driver inquired. He seemed vaguely concerned by your lack of movement. Usually, you would leave the coach immediately to go deal with your own matters but, today, you were inexplicably frozen in place.

"Lady (Name)," Alexandra spoke up when you continued to dally.

You jumped. "Ah yes," you said. "Thank you." Reluctantly, you gathered your bag and stood up to exit, but your feet did not want to move. Your joints protested every shift and move you made. Every step filled you with anxiety. Behind you, Alexandra walked quietly, but you could _ feel _ her watching your back as she kept pace.

Although you were walking towards your home, you could not stop thinking about the fact that the king was currently visiting—invading—your place of comfort, and that your mother, with all her plotting and scheming, was attending him. The steps up to the front doors were particularly heinous, especially when you saw Arabella standing beside the awaiting butlers. You knew that your mother had sent her to fetch you, to make sure that you could not avoid the torture of being in the king's presense by first visiting your bedroom.

"My lady." She curtsied as you approached.

"Hello, Arabella." You greeted her with none of the reluctance you were currently feeling in your voice as if you had not noticed or not realized that a coach with the king's coat of arms was currently decorating the driveway of your mother's estate.

"Your lady mother bids you to join her for afternoon tea." Arabella was continuing the ruse: she had no intention of informing you of the king's presence. That decision was likely one your mother had indicated in her instructions when directing Arabella to find you. You wondered if she said the words privately or in front of him. While the former would not rouse any suspicions, you knew that your mother could easily play off the latter with a laugh and an excuse about wanting to _ surprise _ you. Of course, it ultimately didn't matter how she relayed her directions to Arabella, but you were mildly curious. Really, you just preferred to think about anything other than your impending meeting. 

"But I just had tea with Shalltear," you said with a small smile.

Although Arabella's expression did not change, you could feel her irritation with you coming off her in waves. "Your lady mother _ insists_."

"Well," you started with false cheer, "If she insists, then I must."

"Of course," Arabella replied, sounding for all the world as if she wanted to snap at you to stop dawdling, instead. However, her face continued to stay completely blank.

Turning to Alexandra, you asked, "Shall you be joining us?"

"Unfortunately, no," she said. "Your mother had business for me to attend to upon our return. So I shall." With that, she curtsied politely and walked into the estate. 

Once Alexandra was gone, Arabella turned abruptly and headed in the direction of the drawing room. Falling into step behind her, you watched the movement of Arabella's hem as it moved from side to side around her feet. The drawing room was not far.

Even before you arrived at the doorway, you could hear the sounds of pleasant conversation. You had never heard your mother sound so relaxed. Your brows furrowed of their own volition at the tone of her voice. She laughed. The furrow only grew worse.

For the first time in your life, you heard a genuine laugh pass her lips: not pitched and sharp, but smooth. Natural. 

And then you were at the doorway.

"Lady (Name)," Arabella announced you before stepping aside. 

Though you remembered to smile, you knew that it did not reach your eyes. Falling into a deep curtsy before the king, you addressed him with a differential "Your majesty."

"(Name)," he said. The earlier ease in his tone was replaced with discomfort. Gazef was seated at one of the two couches in the drawing room, two plush monstrosities composed of yellow fabric. The other, on which your mother sat, stood directly opposite of the first and, in between, stood a modest coffee table with elegantly arranged sandwiches and pastries. You had never seen your mother tell the servants prepare tea in the drawing room. "Please stand."

You did as the king bid. Then you turned to your mother and curtsied politely. "Mother," you said in greeting.

"Excellent. You're here," she said. Her own tone had flattened out at your intrusion. "I trust that tea with our dear Shalltear went well?"

When had your mother ever referred to Shalltear as "our dear"? How odd.

"Of course." You continued to stay in your place as she always bid you do. For just a moment, her eyes clouded with irritation.

"Come now. Sit down." Balancing her cup in one hand, she reached down and patted the cushion on the right of her. She turned to Gazef and laughed dismissively at the exchange. "My poor dear is so shy that she forgets to do such basic things." 

"Yes, mother," you said. You said nothing in response to her comment. It would be better to play off your lack of movement as simple reluctance since the king already thought that you were shy from your interactions last night.

Sitting down beside her, you examined the food laid out on the table. Every piece was perfectly arranged and baked to perfection. Even the dishes that your mother and the king were currently using were the finest of the fine china collections that your mother had acquired, and the cutlery was shined to perfection. There was no way that this visit had happened spontaneously. Your mother had _ planned _ it. This knowledge, combined with your earlier revelation, made you feel even more put off by this meeting. Looking to the king, you wondered if he was knowingly going along with your mother's plans or perhaps even helping come up with them. It would make sense why he was so keen on spending time with you the night before.

You paused. No. There was no possible way that your mother could be plotting with the peasant king. It was utterly _ unimaginable_.

"How was your earlier tea with Shalltear?" the aforementioned king inquired.

Smiling, you said, "Wonderful. We discussed the events of the prior night at length." You folded your hands in your lap, intent on not moving as your mother always demanded. While your statement was true, the invocation of the prior night reminded you of your interactions with the king—not the dance or the _ very _ public way he asked to share one, no. But the seemingly spontaneous way that the king had approached you. How he had seen your red eyes and your second momentary lapse of self-control. 

Gazef smiled in turn. "I have no taste for parties, but you looked lovely last night," he said.

You looked down at the table laden with pastries. How impertinent of him. "Thank you, your majesty." When you hazarded a gaze back to his face, you saw that he had affected a fond smile in turn. The king must have believed your inability to look at his face some sort of _ cute _ reaction. You found that idea incredibly off-putting.

"It was such a shame that I did not see her dancing and socializing the night before," your mother lamented. You would have even believed her if it weren't for the fact that she had been absolutely infuriated by your story of how all the other nobles ignored you. She was well aware that you only danced with the king. And you were also the only lady he had invited to dance. The others swarmed him after your dance, demanding ones of their own. But the king said that he had danced enough for the evening. His proclamation did nothing to improve the moods of the others. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, she looked at you fondly and caressed your cheek while you tried to look as if you weren't frozen in place by her touch. "She was such a beauty in her lovely, new gown." Your mother patted your cheek twice, as in warning to avoid making too much of a fool of yourself, and returned her hand under her saucer.

"She was," Gazef agreed. When he noticed you looking at him, he smiled politely. You averted your eyes immediately. "Truly the most beautiful woman at the ball." 

Your mother turned to one of the maids hovering in the background and directed her to pour you a cup of tea. Walking over to the cart with the pot of tea and extra cups, she poured a cup. When she was done, the girl held out the cup and saucer before you, and you took it with a "Thank you." The smell of the tea was lovely—black tea with lavender and vanilla—but you weren't sure if you could stomach it considering everything you had discovered. Bringing the cup to your lips, you took a small sip. You always loved this particular blend, and it could always calm you down, regardless of the circumstances. From the corner of your eye, you looked at your mother. Then you looked back down at the dark liquid in your cup. Had she chosen this tea on purpose in an attempt to placate you into accepting these events? You knew that it was hardly one of her favorites. 

Since you were definitely not planning on starting a conversation all on your own, your mother went back to her earlier topic of conversation with the king. Or it at least must have been the earlier topic since they were speaking about things that made no sense.

Looking from her to the king, you wondered why your mother liked him so much. What had happened in the past that they were so close? She never spoke so fondly to you or smiled so genuinely.

You dropped your gaze and frowned at your tea.

Was your mother in love with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooo drama!


	7. Chapter 7

When it was time for the king to go, you and your mother had walked him out, but she did not return to the sitting room to the tea or the food. She instead turned abruptly and headed to her office in a flourish of skirts.

The two of you did not speak on the way there—someone was always listening and watching, after all. You could not even trust the servants. They _ were _ lowborn. However, you had always wondered who exactly Alexandra was if your mother trusted her so wholeheartedly. Surely, she was no mere commoner, but you never heard any of the servants refer to her by a title as they ought to have if she truly were of noble birth. You glanced at your mother and her dark blue dress. For all your life, you had seen her in dark colors, but she had favored aubergine tones the most. She would not be able to wear those dresses unless you succeeded in the goal she had given you. When your father had died, you had wondered if your mother might not transition to wearing black at all times like some rare widows. 

She stopped, standing before her office door to unlock it with the key that your mother never let out of her sight. Sometimes, you wondered what your mother kept in her office that needed to be kept under so much protection. While she had been the economic adviser to the king back when the latter position had still been your uncle's, your mother no longer held any lofty titles other than the one she was born with, and even that you hadn’t been sure how she managed to keep. Until now, you supposed. Her friendship—indeed, a very _ close _ friendship—with the king was your answer. But why had she kept this friendship a secret? Why did she simply not back the peasant king when he was simply a hopeful usurper? Your family would have greatly benefited from such an alliance. Even if your mother did not wish to anger her brother or the few loyalists who still supported him, there was no way that the former king would have been able to overpower—or even survive—the coup. Why rely on the uncertainty of the king choosing you as his bride? 

Unlocking the door, your mother stepped inside and beckoned you to follow. 

You closed the door behind you while your mother sat down on her chair, an oversized monstrosity with plump, red pillows, positioned behind the desk. Then you headed for your usual position, five feet in front of the desk, and stood at attention, shoulders back and spine straight, your feet rooted steadily on the hardwood floor. If nothing else, your mother’s Spartan discipline certainly taught you a thing or two about posture. 

“How was the tea party?” she inquired.

“Uneventful,” you lied. You had other questions you wanted answered, and she would likely end this report immediately if she found out that Shalltear informed you of what she had informed you. In fact, your mother might even try to bar you from seeing Shalltear. Again.

Nodding somewhat suspiciously, your mother paused for a moment. She was considering what to say. Likely, the thought on her mind was where to begin criticizing you. 

“You should have spoken more when Gazef was here,” she said.

There it was. You nodded. “I don’t know what to say to him.”

She did not look impressed. “Just talk about something. Say something about that silly poetry you love so much or those novels, your piano playing. You’re a pretty girl. He’ll listen to whatever you have to say just so he can look upon you.”

For someone she had seemed to get on so well with earlier, your mother was certainly being harsh.

“I didn’t know that,” you said.

Your mother huffed out a breath and lunged forward in her chair. She slammed her hands down on the arms. “Can your foolish mouth produce nothing more than worthless excuses?” she snapped.

“I apologize,” you responded. Perhaps, once upon a time, you would have flinched at her sudden change in temper or grown upset from her harsh words. But it had been a long time since her words had startled you.

She sat back in her chair. For a moment, she said nothing and collected herself. “Now you know. Speak and Gazef will listen. He’s polite enough to do so, and your pretty face will keep him there even if your words do not.”

You nodded.

“Is that how you acted the night before?” she inquired.

You nodded again.

She gave you a withering sigh. “I do not do all these things for you, so you can simply sabotage my efforts.” 

But what was she talking about? The dress? The jewelry? Or did she do something else?

“It’s a good thing he finds your shy act endearing. And a good thing that he was fooled by it.”

Nothing escaped your mother’s notice. 

“You should have told me the truth last night,” she scolded. 

“I did!” you protested.

“By technicalities and omissions!”

She was right. 

“I was wrong to have allowed you to roam the ball freely. Next time, Alexandra will be by your side the entire night. At the very least, you will not embarrass me so! Perhaps you might even do as you are told when you know that she is watching.”

Protesting was futile. What could you say to change her mind? Nothing. “Yes, mother.”

“Good. If you have nothing useful to say, then you should leave.”

But you did not leave. And it did not take long for your mother to realize that you were not about to do as she had so kindly suggested.

“Yes? Do you actually have something worth my time?”

You felt reluctant to speak. While you were often foolhardy, you were not truly foolish. 

“Yes, (Name)?” She stressed your name. You could see that your mother longed to be done with this conversation. 

“I was simply wondering how you know so much about the king,” you asked.

The way your mother narrowed her eyes and did not answer immediately told you that she did not want to answer your question. She knew that it wasn’t just simple curiosity brewing underneath your inquiry. However, she answered anyway—even if it was only to get you to leave her alone. “It’s nothing special: my knowledge is simply the result of all the time I spent on your late uncle’s council. Gazef and I had a long time to get acquainted. He is no simple, stupid man. He is strong and honorable. I deemed him worthy of my time. In the face of your uncle’s madness, it appears to have been the right choice.”

She said nothing you didn’t already know, but you supposed that it was an answer to your question despite how unsatisfying it was.

“But you taught me that commoners are never worth my time.”

“And I taught you that even nobles have to make concessions when it comes to extraordinary circumstances. He was your uncle’s personal guard. He had his ear and was his confidant. The circumstances were extraordinary.” Just as she had in that case, your mother expected you to concede in this one. “Now, are you done?”

“No,” you said.

She sighed. “With what else do you insist on wasting my time?”

“Your relationship with the new king. It never”—you hesitated—“went beyond a friendship?”

You had done the impossible: your mother sat before you, shocked speechless. But that state did not last long. Shifting to sit up straighter, she asked, “What did you say?”

Now, you regretted your tongue. 

When she spoke, your mother’s voice was quiet and full of the promises of anger, of things you could be sure would make you regret saying such baseless garbage. “You presume to understand my interactions with other people?”

“I—” You tried to speak, but your mother would not allow you to do so.

"Begone from my sight and burden me with your foolish theories no longer." Those words were the last thing your mother would say on the matter. You could tell from the set of her jaw and the angle of her shoulders. 

"Yes, mother," you said, bowing your head as you had done so many times in the last ten, fifteen years. Obeying, you removed your offending person to your room. You did not need her to call for Alexandra to escort you back. It might have taken you some odd years to learn, but you knew when you were not wanted. 

As you mounted the walk back to your room, you could feel the eyes of the servants upon you, their eyes empty of pity—and that was how you preferred it. You did not need them to look down on you as they pretended to listen and console. You would spill no tears before such an audience, and their nosiness helped you steel yourself.

When you arrived at your room, you turned the doorknob slowly, not wanting to make any noise even in the comfort of your quarters. You kept your eyes trained on the floor. If Arabella were lying in wait, then you did not need to be forewarned. All it would make you want to do was pretend not to see her and leave, but you could not. Raising your eyes, you took in the calm state of your room. Everything remained just as you left it, save for some minor changes. The curtains were pulled to the sides to fill the space with light, your bedsheets were neat and had been tucked into right angles, and all the clutter upon your dresser had been organized into its rightful places. But there was something here that you did not remember seeing before: a bouquet of blue flowers in a lovely purple vase. You did not know what to make of it. A bouquet? Who would buy you such a thing? And in such a vase, too. Perhaps the object was a gift from a suitor? But what suitor would lower himself to courting you in these troublesome times? 

Moving forward slowly, you walked over to the end table that housed the vase. The blue flowers in the arrangement were largely alliums and deep blue poppies, with smatterings of grape hyacinth. It was a substantial bouquet, painstakingly arranged into a spiral much like the lapis lazuli jewelry you wore the night before. Though you hated the thought of disturbing the careful order of the flowers, you couldn't help but reach out and drag your fingers along the petals. They were silky underneath your fingertips. 

They were so beautiful that you could feel the tears you did not spill earlier threaten to come to the surface. 

That moment was when you noticed a card standing underneath the bouquet, and you reached for it, disregarding the salty water blurring your vision. Perhaps the card would solve the mystery of your caller. 

_ These lovely flowers reminded me of you last night_: _ your dress and your jewelry_.

The note was scrawled in a messy hand, the letters jagged and harsh. Your mother would have never approved of such handwriting. You had to read slowly to decipher the words. 

_ Perhaps you can look upon them and remember me as fondly as I think of you_.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. 

_ Gazef_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, how sweet Gazef is. He's my favorite cinnamon roll. The next chapter will feature him more since we're going to move on to the courting! See you then!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first courting begins!

Today was it. The day—the one where the king's company would be forced upon you. The man whose company you had absolutely no interest in. And yet he had claimed your afternoon. 

You could not wrap your head around that idea. You did not _ want _ to wrap your head around the idea. Instead, you stood staring out the window, which had an excellent view of the courtyard leading up to the entrance of the estate. This way, you would know when the king would arrive to call upon you. You would be able to mentally prepare yourself before the maid or butler would come and fetch you. But the thought of having more time to prepare did nothing to steady your raging nerves, now. 

To help yourself relax, you looked over the immaculate grounds surrounding the driveway—two widths of a carriage—and the expanse of green that gave way to lines of ash trees closer to the fence on the perimeter of the estate.

“Are you ready?” your mother asked. Without waiting for your response, she moved to your vanity and started messing with your carefully ordered items. She was walking back and forth before the piece of furniture, grabbing a necklace here or moving a bottle there. “Perhaps you should wear these earrings, instead,” she said. 

Glancing behind you, you briefly looked over the proffered jewelry. You had indeed considered them before deciding on the ones you were currently wearing. “I do not believe that the exact, smoky shade of emerald works well with the bright, leafy green of my dress,” you said. The exact choice of bright green seemed appropriate on such a sunny, pleasant spring day, and the dress was made for the summer weather, making it light enough to not feel oppressive in the warmth of the afternoon. 

You could feel your mother’s gaze on your dress—the delicate fabric and ornate, white lace decorating the hem and bodice. “You’re right,” she acquiesced. With that statement, she put the earrings away. You could hear the slight rustle of fabric and the muffled clap of the box to which your mother returned the earrings closing from behind you. She was micromanaging. You knew as much. But it didn’t stop her from annoying you with her hovering. With the stress from the impending meeting, the last thing you needed was your mother’s badgering, but your opinion on the matter would not stop her. You pointedly stared at the courtyard. The king had planned to arrive by one in the afternoon, but you knew that it was at least ten minutes past. You supposed that being king came with certain allowances, among them a lax attitude toward punctuality.

Scowling, you stared out the window. When the king arrived, you would be sure to make him wait, as well. Your mother would never allow you to tarry long, but you would teach him that you were no pup at his beck and call.

At half past one, you saw the king’s carriage roll into the driveway. This lateness was an insult upon your good character. The peasant king had obviously done so on purpose. He _ wanted _ to make you wait. 

You were not content to wait for the servant to find you. You would show that you were waiting for him to _ spite _him. Moving from the window, you headed in the direction of the door to the hallway, beside which Alexandra had been standing. She was to be your chaperone for this meeting. After all, the intention was for the king to court you, even if he was off to a terrible start. 

“Where are you going?” your mother asked at your abrupt movement. Up to this point, you had remained at the window, practicing the perfect stillness your mother forced you to adopt from a young age.

“The peasant king has arrived,” you responded, scorn filling your voice. 

She said nothing, but Alexandra fell into step behind you as you headed for the drawing room, where the servants had been directed to bring him once he arrived.

You could hear the harsh clicks of your shoes against the flooring as you walked, the sound as severe as your mood. When you arrived at the drawing room, you were pleased to see that no one was waiting for you. The king would have no way of knowing that you only came to the room recently and, if he had even a scrap of decency, then he would feel shame for making a lady wait for him, especially one of such noble birth. Sitting down at the plush chair beside the window, you arranged your skirts in your lap. It would not do to appear disheveled since it might reveal to him that you had rushed to the room in anticipation of his arrival. You did not want to look _ eager_. Alexandra sat down on the couch. If the two of you decided to stay beside the window, that distance would give the appearance of privacy without actually affording you any—not that you wanted privacy. 

No, no, privacy was the last thing you wanted when faced with the king.

The king’s steps rang out from a hallway away in the silence of the estate. Perhaps he was not so silent of a man as his sudden appearance during the ball had made you think. After all, the room was filled with the background noise of hundreds of bodies, and you had been rather distraught at the time. 

Beside him, you could hear the sounds of many other people. The way the noise bounced off the walls confused the sounds, so you were not sure exactly how many people were walking with the king, but you could hear him speak.

“I apologize again for the lateness.”

At least he was aware that his behavior was entirely inappropriate, and he appeared to be rushing.

“You do not have to apologize to me, your majesty,” one of the maids assured him. She sounded short of breath. But he definitely had to apologize to you. And the apology had better be genuine. Truly, you hated lateness more than anything else. You hoped that one of his advisors would explain to him the importance of punctuality in proper society if he, in his advanced age, had not yet understood it.

When the king turned the corner, he practically burst into the room. 

You did your best to appear startled, as if you had not been expecting him.

“Your majesty.” You stood and curtsied and, from the corner of your eye, you could see that Alexandra had done the same.

“Lady (Name),” the king said. He moved closer to you. Even though he had been moving quickly, and the maid appeared to be out of breath, Gazef himself did not look as though he had been rushing. You did not see any sweat despite the warmth of the day, and his breath was even. With your head bowed, you glanced up at his broad shoulders, leading down to his muscular chest and arms. Certainly, the king was no soft man. Rushing from the front door to the drawing room—even from the courtyard to the drawing room—would be no inconvenience to someone accustomed to the physical strain of battle. 

You tried to push the thought from your mind. You were angry, despite not wanting to appear so, and any thoughts of his well-tailored doublet or his apparent stamina were entirely inappropriate for your current mood. Clearly, these wayward thoughts were Shalltear’s influence.

“Please stand,” he said, remembering his position.

Now that you were standing to your full height, you realized that the king was holding another bouquet and, this time, a small box. You did not presume that they were for you. Besides, even if they were, his lack of respect for you and your time could not be glossed over by flowers and pretty baubles. 

“I’m so sorry I was late,” he said, managing to appear genuine. Perhaps he was. However, your taste for spite could not be appeased with pretty sentiments. “Though they are no excuse for my rudeness, I hope that you accept these gifts.” Gazef straightened his arms towards you as he offered the gifts, and the bulging muscles of his biceps relaxed with the movement. 

At least he knew. “Thank you.” You accepted the flowers and could not help but smell them. The light scent of honey and raspberries carried from the blooms. This bouquet was more modest, instead of the eye-catching blue of the last one, but the soft pinks of the begonias and bright reds of the roses would not pale in comparison beside them. Furthermore, the tops of these flowers appeared to be dusted with gold. Resting the bouquet on your left arm, you reached up to touch the closest flower, a rose. The petals were fresh and satiny, but some of the shimmery dust had rubbed off on your fingers. With a start, you realized that you had taken too long to observe the flowers, but the king did not mind. When you looked up, he had a fond smile on his face that bloomed into a grin. The harsh planes of his cheeks and jaw were softened by the movement. Even you had to admit that he was handsome. 

A commoner but handsome.

“Do you enjoy flowers, Lady (Name)?” he inquired. 

“I do,” you admitted and looked back down at the bouquet. Your mother had ordered you to speak—seemingly ad nauseum, but speak—and speak you would. “Thank you. It is beautiful. I would like to thank you for the bouquet you brought for me earlier this week. The flowers were wonderful. I—” You cut yourself off and looked up into the king’s eyes. “Your note brought me great comfort.”

Something flickered behind Gazef’s eyes for just a moment—gone so quick that you were not sure what kind of emotion it even was—and his smile fell ever so slightly, the corners of his mouth lowering before he forced them back into place. This grin was more robotic, and a part of you wished that you had never said those words and ruined his smile. The other part of you, one that sounded like your mother, scolded you for the show of weakness before such an adversary.

Realizing that the others in the room, certainly Alexandra but also the maid and the king’s guards, heard your statement made a blush rise to your cheeks. The heat was uncomfortable, and it only grew worse as it spread to the tips of your ears. You could no longer meet his eye, so you looked back down at the flowers. Unfortunately, Alexandra told the maid to fetch them from you to put them in a vase beside the one already in your room.

You gave the bouquet up reluctantly. The weight of the flowers in your arms had been a comfort. Without it, you did not know what to do with your hands. But you carefully put it into the waiting arms of the maid. 

Devoid of the bouquet, you looked back at the king. “I have a gift for you,” he said. The box he was holding was small and simple. “A token,” he added.

“Thank you,” you said, accepting the box. When you opened it, you realized that it held a brooch. It was made of gold, the metal wires hammered out into the shape of a butterfly with the wing pattern of a monarch. The body of the insect was inlaid with rich, amber-colored citrine and polished obsidian. While you had more ornate brooches and had previously received considerably more luxurious gifts from former suitors, you appreciated the simplicity of the design.

“I thought that the butterfly might be a good companion to all the flowers that I have given you,” Gazef said. 

You looked up from the box. “Your majesty, this is too much,” you said. 

He laughed and raised an arm to rub the back of his head. The muscle seemed to double in size as he inadvertently flexed it. “My advisors told me that this much is expected of a courting among the nobility. I had seen some exchanges occur but nothing firsthand."

Blinking, you looked back down at the brooch. You had not expected the king to be so forward about his lack of knowledge regarding the nobility. “It is true that many suitors wish to impress their intended with lavish displays of wealth,” you said, knowing that your response was not much of one. It would be a lie to say that you did not enjoy material objects, but you did not know how to respond to such candidness. 

"I do not know what kind of jewelry is to your taste. Perhaps, with time, I will learn," Gazef said. Your eyes flicked up to his briefly. His gaze was even and kind.

"Thank you for the gift. It is lovely," you said. The gratefulness you felt was genuine. The king seemed pleased that you were happy with the gift. "In fact, it compliments my gown today," you said. Carefully, you extricated the brooch from the box in which it was secured and pinned the butterfly to the breast of your dress. When you looked up at him, you could see that he was happy. Had the king been worried that you would not like his gift?

"Please take the box to my room, as well," you told the maid. The maid took the box and from you, curtsied as much as she could without the use of her hands, and left. 

"Please, sit down." You motioned to the other chair across from the table at which you had been sitting.

"Thank you," he responded politely. 

As you sat down, you arranged your skirts. Doing so gave you the time to consider what to chatter about aimlessly. Did you want to discuss flowers? It would make sense to bring them up since the king had inquired after your opinion of them earlier. Perhaps you could talk about your piano playing.

"Would you like some refreshments?" you asked. You were a poor host. You should have asked earlier. Glancing in Alexandra's direction, you hoped that she would not report your mistake to your mother. You could only see the back of her head, her brown hair pulled into a severe bun. Though Alexander appeared not to be watching, there was a well-placed mirror above the fireplace that gave her a full view of the room. Unfortunately, you could not see her from the angle at which you were seated.

"No thank you. I dined with my advisors earlier," he said. 

You nodded.

"That was indeed why I was late," he explained. Leaning forward on the table, he pressed his hands together, gloved fingers intertwined as if in prayer. "I know that it is no excuse, but the meeting did run late." 

"Please, do not worry." You gave him a bland smile. You straightened your shoulders in your chair, flattening your back against your chair, just as your mother taught you. "It is my honor to wait for your majesty." 

Your comment etched a deep frown into the king’s mouth, and he hunched forward even further. His chest was practically touching the table. While you were pleased to see that he looked uncomfortable, you were not as pleased as you would have been at the beginning of the conversation. 

"No. It is unacceptable," he said. "I did not tolerate lateness from my soldiers, and I will not give myself any allowances."

You allowed yourself to chuckle. “Then we are in agreement.” 

The king looked up at you with his brows slightly furrowed, likely in confusion at your sudden turn in opinion.

“I, too, do not tolerate lateness.” You gave him a pretty smile and cocked your head.

Gazef smiled in response, relaxing. “You were being polite.”

“I was,” you said, honestly. 

Nodding, he said, “Then it is an agreement. No latenesses.”

You laughed. “Yes, no latenesses.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh. Not my best work, but I just wanted to post it already. Sorry for the delay in updating!

Once the matter of the lateness was resolved, you invited Gazef on a walk of the grounds. As he stood, he ordered his guards to remain behind in the drawing room. They didn't seem happy to leave his side, but they did as they were told. However, you still had your own personal shadow following you at a respectful distance.

After all, she was to make sure that nothing _ inappropriate _happened between you and the king but, if Alexandra truly believed that you would engage in any untoward activities with a man you barely knew and hardly liked, then she didn't understand you at all despite knowing you all your life. You couldn't help but think about Shalltear and what she would have to say about this farce. Perhaps she would make a joke about how quiet and awkward you were being, or she would suggest that you find a quiet corner and show the king why you were the only bride in whom he should be interested. The latter, even from your own imagination, made your cheeks feel hot. Of course, she would only say it in jest. Shalltear had said before that one needed sexual experience before attempting a seduction, even one based in innocence. 

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. Gazef was walking with his back ramrod straight and shoulders squared, looking around at the splendor of the gardens. You directed your gaze back down to the cobblestone path. The grey stones were old and faded beneath your feet, but they were not representative of the gardens that your mother had painstakingly taken care of for the better part of her life. Beyond the confines of the path, the grass spread out in a lush, green carpet kept free of weeds and other unseemly things by the army of gardeners that your mother had on staff.

The king was looking out at the flowers in the distance with interest, but he made no move to go towards them.

"Do you like flowers, your majesty?" you inquired. You glanced over at him from the corner of your eye. 

Gazef appeared surprised to hear you address him first, but he recovered quickly. He turned his torso more towards you, so he could look at you as he spoke. "A passing interest, mostly," he admitted. "But I do consider them beautiful."

You nodded. Most people did. But most people did not put hours into studying them.

"You said that you like them," Gazef prompted. 

"I did say that," you agreed. You inclined your head towards him and gave him a small smile. Until you approached the new path branching off the one had been walking, you did not say more on the subject. However, the path had not been far away. You stopped moving. "If we turn this way, then I can tell you a little more about the flowers you were looking at earlier," you said.

Turning his head from you to inspect the destination of the path, Gazef nodded. "I think that I would like that."

The length of the path was not terribly long considering the sprawling estate, but it did take some time to approach the gardens walking at the leisurely pace to which you were accustomed. Gazef's long legs meant that he had to slow down to walk at your pace. Even though he was the king, you would never lower yourself to scurry to keep pace with him. Besides, he didn't seem to mind.

As you approached the entrance to the gardens, you pointed at the large pergola mounted over the entrance practically coated with vines. While the vines had already sprouted many new leaves, they didn't yet develop the grapes.

"That is the vine of a green grape, Concord, a slip skin grape. It is a variety where the meat is separate from the skin, so it is very easy to peel, and the skin itself is very tough." You looked at the king. "Have you tried such a grape?"

He looked down from the vines to you. "I can't say I have," he responded. 

"It is a very divisive grape," you said almost solemnly. "Either you like it, or you don't. I haven't found anyone to be ambivalent about them."

"Why do you think that is?" 

"Likely the texture. The tough skin almost forces you to peel the grape—not that it's a difficult task. And, while the meat of the grape is flavorful, the meat is separated from the skin with a very thick, almost mucus-like layer." You squinted. The way you were describing the grapes made them sound unpleasant. 

Gazef laughed. "Then why does your mother grow them?"

"She likes them. And they are one of the few conducive to the climate." You looked at the thick vines wound around the legs of the pergola.

"And do you like them?" Gazef inquired.

"I do, but I do admit that they are an acquired taste,” you said. For a moment, you paused. Was there anything else to really on the matter? No, no. You had to continue. You didn’t want to appear reluctant in front of Alexandra. “I considered them very unpleasant when I was a child,” you admitted shortly. 

Gazef smiled. “They do sound very strange.”

“Perhaps you can return when they grow and try them for yourself,” you offered.

“I would like that.”

Would that be enough? You were even inviting him back for later, suggesting that you want to spend more time with him. Of course, you didn’t, but he didn’t know about your disdain for his humble origins. “Shall we continue?” you asked.

Gazef gave you a wide grin. “Please.”

You stepped forward, under the pergola, and into the garden. The path through the gardens branched out into two parallel paths, but there was no true difference between the flowers you would see on one side or the other. Out of simple habit, you walked down the left side. Gazef followed closely—but not too closely as you had to remain at a proper distance—behind. 

As the two of you walked, you pointed out the names and any basic facts about each flower. The two of you walked very slowly once you started explaining every cluster of flowers in the garden. The three plots of dirt were surrounded by gray stones cut into the approximation of rectangular prisms, lumpy and misshapen on the long sides visible from the outside but surprisingly flat on the short sides, resulting in them resting perfectly against one another. Inside of the rectangular plots the dirt was raised higher than the level of the path. Bushes dotted the dirt at regular intervals, far enough to see the mulch that covered the soil between them but close enough not to look sparse. Colorful blooms—reds, pinks, oranges, yellows, whites, purples, and the rare blues—dotted the plots in carefully arranged and maintained bursts of color. Of course, there was plenty of green below and between the flowers.

Red rose bushes in the shapes of animals decorated the corners of each plot and, between them, the rest of the flowers were spread out in a zig-zag pattern that an intentional amount of overgrowth concealed. There were fluffy, pink peonies and smooth, pink broken hearts, with their unique shape mimicking a heart, burst and curled at the bottom with a droplet beneath. Though they did not grow in bushes, clusters of yellow daffodils were arranged in the dirt. Bushes of begonias—red, pink, orange, yellow, and white—grew close to the ground. The plush heads of ranunculus looked back at you as you gazed upon them, clusters of peach and pink and purple poking out from among the others. In the middle sat small trees of lilac that towered above the rest, the delicate branches heavy with blooms. But your favorite had always been the expansive bushes of blue hydrangea. 

“You know quite a bit about flowers,” he said.

You nodded. “I do. Mother always loved flowers, so she made sure that that love was passed along to me.”

“Your mother?” Gazef asked.

“Yes.” You nodded. For a moment, you paused. If the king had known your mother for so long, then how did he not know about your mother’s favorite hobby? “You didn’t know?”

“No.” He shook his head and smiled for you. “She never mentioned it.”

How odd.

Approaching the end of the path, you offered Gazef the chance to sit down on the white porch swing installed in the garden for the purpose of relaxation. With the both of you seated, the large man still towered above you, but his gentle smile put you at ease. Alexandra had stopped about a third of the path away from you, pretending to take great interest in the flowers.

You looked up at the pergola—the twin of the one at the entrance—covered in delicate vines. These vines were purely decorative and did not yield anything, but they were an excellent source of shade on the warm day.

“How do you find the gardens?” you inquired of the king. You allowed your eyes to trail over the planes of his face: his flat albeit prominent nose, his sharp cheekbones, his plush lips, and his delightfully accentuated jaw. 

“They’re beautiful.” He turned to look at you, and you couldn’t help the nervous way you diverted your gaze. How embarrassing—he had caught you looking at him. When you glanced over at Gazef again, he was smiling at you. “Do you help maintain them?” he inquired.

“Ah, no.” You looked away from him and instead gazed at the plants in front of you. You couldn’t tell him that your mother doesn’t trust you with her beloved flowers. “Most of my work is in the greenhouse. I mostly focus on raising herbs, vegetables, and berries.”

“That’s a very practical activity.” The way he made the words sound almost seemed like a praise. Your cheeks felt hot.

“It’s nothing too impressive.” Focusing on your lap, you tried to push these uncomfortable feelings from your head. “I only grow enough to occasionally include in the meals.”

“I think that you are underestimating yourself. I don’t know the first thing about growing plants, let alone vegetables.”

You had to look at him to make sure that he wasn’t making fun of you, but Gazef’s expression was irritatingly kind. How were you supposed to react to it? “T-thank you,” you stuttered out. You hadn’t anticipated the praise, especially for something so simple. Your mother’s prized flowers were so beautiful that she wouldn’t even let you water them—forget pruning or maintaining them in any way. 

“You’re welcome, Lady (Name),” he said. Frowning for just a moment, Gazef appeared to want to say something else, but he held his tongue. Instead, he gave you a pleasant grin and said, “I would like to thank you for giving me such an informative tour. I’m not sure that I’ll be able to retain it, but I enjoyed learning from you.” 

Before you could respond, you had to dig your nails into you palm to distract from the blossoming feeling of warmth deep within your chest. “You’re welcome.” 

Why did his words fluster you so?


	10. Chapter 10

You walked through the aisles of the toy store, Shalltear wandering just a step behind you as she cooed at the handmade dolls with their pretty hair and eyes, bedecked in intricate gowns. The aisles of the store were separated by solid, wooden display cases, the color of the wood a rich, dark walnut. The shelves were solid, which you considered more than necessary for no more than four dolls to a shelf. However, these were expensive, handmade dolls, and it made sense that the owner of the shop did not want to deal with any uncertainties regarding the strength of the shelving units. Your best friend had insisted on dragging you to the toy store to help you pick out a doll for her young cousin’s birthday present, but you did not know why she wanted you there. Even as a child, you had never liked dolls much. Your mother had never given you any, instead preferring that you busy yourself with activities more becoming of royalty. 

“(Name)! Come here!” Shalltear called from behind you. “What do you think of this one?”

Backtracking just three steps, you turned to look at the doll at which Shalltear was pointing. She was certainly well made. Her dark, curled hair was glossy and carefully arranged, and she had shiny green eyes beneath thick, dark lashes. The doll’s dress was also green, the bodice decorated with dark ribbon and ending in a high neckline that covered the bottom half of the doll’s porcelain neck. She was delicate—dainty. A fine gift for a child of eight who would ruthlessly drag her around, staining the gown with mud or whatever other greasy, dirty things children always managed to get all over their paws. 

“It’s pretty,” you said simply.

“What a boring response,” Shalltear pouted. “Mother!” Shalltear turned and called to her mother, who was standing on the other side of the aisle and looking at the baby toys. She had a hand idly running along the top of her significantly rounded belly. Looking over her shoulder, she huffed and slowly waddled over to where the two of you were standing.

“I told you not to yell so much,” Lady Bloodfallen said. She huffed out a breath more likely out of breathlessness than any real annoyance. Her usually pale cheeks were flushed, and her white-blonde hair was already starting to creep out from under her bonnet. Any day now, the new Bloodfallen would be born. Before, spending time around the very pregnant Lady Bloodfallen did not summon any kind of uncomfortable feelings but, since you had spent the afternoon with the king a week ago being _ courted_, the idea that soon you might be waddling around, carrying the heir, would not leave your mind. You had to force yourself to look back at the doll before Shalltear’s mother realized that anything was amiss. The idea of being pregnant—especially of _ being impregnated _ by the peasant king—made your skin crawl.

“I’m sorry, mother,” Shalltear said with a big smile and wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders, the woman only barely taller than her daughter’s slight frame. Shalltear had to hug her from the side to avoid having to lean around her belly. Standing so close together, it was undeniable that Shalltear was her mother’s daughter. She was practically a copy. You supposed that it was for the best. Only the shape of her eyes and lips were borrowed from her father and, if you even attempted to suggest as much, Shalltear would vehemently deny your assertion. 

“Which doll do you want to buy for little Mary?” Lady Bloodfallen asked.

“The one in the green dress,” Shalltear said. 

“She’s lovely,” Lady Bloodfallen responded. “And she looks just like Mary.” Reaching a hand up, she started to pet Shalltear’s shoulder, playing with the hair gathered to that side. 

“Mother!” Shalltear exclaimed. She jumped away and glared lightly. 

Lady Bloodfallen simply laughed and indicated to her lady’s maid. “Can you go buy the doll for us?” She placed a purse in the maid’s hand and walked away, back towards the baby toys.

“Wait,” Shalltear said. “Since we’re done here, can (Name) and I go for a walk? Just for ten minutes or so. Around the block.”

Lady Bloodfallen pursed her lips. “Alone?”

“Of course not!” Shalltear laughed. “Alexandra can come with us, can’t you?” Turning to look at Alexandra, who was lingering further past Lady Bloodfallen, Shalltear gave her a wide smile. 

“Of course.” Alexandra curtsied before Lady Bloodfallen, who acquiesced.

“Ten minutes, “ she said. 

You and Shalltear bowed your heads before she threaded her arm through yours and headed for the door. The street outside was crowded with people walking around and horse-drawn carriages driving slowly along the wide and packed cobblestone road. Smells of fresh-baked bread mingled with manure wafted past you. It was unpleasant. The warm weather had brought out the rabble, and there were more than a couple of children running past you, which only made your mood worsen. When the two of you were clear of the store, Shalltear turned to you with a very serious expression and asked, “Why were you staring at my little sister so seriously?”

It took you a moment to realize that Shalltear was referring to her mother’s pregnant belly. “You don’t know whether it’s a sister or not.”

“Of course it is a sister,” Shalltear said simply, raising her nose in the air. “My darling mother cannot have any boys. Boys are horrible.” She wrinkled said nose before glancing at you again. For a moment, you thought that she might start yet another diatribe about how, surely, any son that her father had begotten would grow up to be just as horrendous as him, and that is why her mother had only given birth to daughters. Three daughters thus far, to be exact. “And do not think that you successfully distracted me.” 

You looked down at the sidewalk guiltily.

Poking your arm with her free hand, Shalltear demanded, “Tell me what’s on your mind.” But you didn’t respond. She pouted as you remained staring silently ahead. 

“Your mother is very pregnant,” you said. The words felt difficult to get out of your mouth, like your tongue was too big and prevented them from leaving.

“Yes?” Shalltear asked, prompting you to speak further. She cocked her head to the side and looked at you from the corner of her eye.

“Well. I.” The words seized in your throat, and you stopped speaking again. Glancing back, you looked for Alexandra. She was walking reasonably close behind you but not close enough to overhear anything you were going to say on the crowded street. “I had spent time with the king last week,” you finally said even though you were still not quite getting to the point.

“Ah, yes. You haven’t told me about that yet.” Shalltear nodded. “However, I have known you long enough to know that the courting is not what is currently bothering you. You only acquired your foul mood after we went out to the store. I mean, I know you don’t particularly like dolls, but I didn’t realize that you had somehow acquired such a strong hatred for them in the time that we hadn’t seen each other.”

You laughed at Shalltear’s ridiculous statement, and she smiled because you had finally made an expression that wasn’t simply barely contained discontent.

For a moment, the two of you walked in relative silence—relative silence because the noise of the street was all around you.

Then, you sighed. “Your mother, more specifically her pregnant belly, made me realize that I would have to be.” You had to stop speaking. Though Shalltear more than likely now realized the source of your displeasure, she allowed you to work through the mental block you were currently experiencing. “I would be in her. Position. If”—glancing around at all the people walking around, you realized that it would be better to be more subtle in your conversation—“_he _ decides to ask for my hand in marriage.”

“Pregnant?” Shalltear suggested as you were still avoiding that specific word in reference to your own person.

Your initial reaction was to say no. But you knew that it would not fool anyone, especially Shalltear. “Yes.”

“So what if you do get pregnant?” she asked.

“I. It would be. His.”

Shalltear furrowed her brows at your statement, but then she nodded. “Do you think that his peasant seed will taint your noble womb?”

How crude. But you expected such drivel from Shalltear’s mouth. 

“No,” you replied quickly. A little too quickly.

Shalltear raised a perfect eyebrow. You sighed and rolled your neck back, away from Shalltear and her judgemental stare. “I do not believe that anything would be wrong with the baby,” Shalltear said simply. 

“Neither do I,” you agreed.

“Then what is the matter?”

“I don’t like the idea of being intimate with. With him.”

“Why? Because of his less-than-noble birth?” Shalltear’s tone sounded tired. Every time the two of you spoke about the king, she would always bring up the true source of your discontent.

You winced. 

“Do you mind that he’s older than you?”

“Not particularly. I would have preferred a husband around my age, but I always knew that, more than likely, I would be married off to a favorable match rather than a coeval one.” Your statement was your way of saying that you had been expecting to be married off to an older man. After all, you had seen so many young women marry men ten, twenty, thirty—even fifty—years their senior when you were growing up. It was _ normal _ to marry an older man. Truthfully, you were _ lucky _ that he was only twelve years older than you, especially now that you were not quite the appealing candidate that you had been a year prior. 

“Then his body. You seemed to express some concern about your difference in size.”

Your cheeks flushed at the improper comment. You didn’t want to think about his _ body _ at all.

“Well?”

“Well, yes, I did mention it.”

“But is the difference truly a problem for you? I seem to recall a Lord Hawthorne being seriously considered as a match, and he was roughly the same size as your current suitor.”

“Well, yes,” was all you could say. You had forgotten him. The young man had been big and boisterous. You had ultimately declined him because of his unfortunate lack of manners, but the large proportions of his body had never been a cause for concern when he was courting you.

“So his largeness is not a problem. What other perceived flaws did you cite? His personality? Certainly not. Even you admit that he is a kind, considerate man. His manners? No, he acts more the gentleman than many men we know of noble birth.” Shalltear was growing largely impatient with your complaints. “His ability to rule? So far, every decision that has come from the king has been made with the support of his advisors—I mean, even my _ father _ said that he’s impressed by the king’s abilities to make sound policy, and I’m surprised that he was capable of being sober for long enough to make such an assessment—and the people _ love _ him.”

You were shocked by Shalltear’s outburst. She finally stopped speaking when she attempted to move forward and found that you were standing firmly in place, your arm anchoring hers. 

Opening her mouth to likely ask why you weren’t _ moving_, Shalltear examined your expression. Some of the hurt that you were feeling had escaped what you had briefly hoped was a thin, blank line of your lips, judging from Shalltear’s immediate backpedaling. 

“I’m sorry. I just—”

You interrupted her. “I have been trying my best to not talk about what I know you believe to be a moot point, but you are the one who keeps bringing it up and then getting angry at me for it. I have been _ trying _ not to speak about it because I know that it upsets you.” Your arm moved before you could even think about what you were doing. All you knew was that you simply didn’t want to touch Shalltear any more. Her brows knit together at the loss of contact. “My mother spent my entire life telling me that rank matters above all. That it is the most important aspect of my person. That any potential suitor was marrying me for the potentiality of getting his children a claim to the throne one day. And now she wants me to completely disregard everything she had taught me about carrying myself in order to claw our way back into the graces of polite society. She’s treating me like a broodmare to offer to a man that she would _ never _ have allowed me to even consider a reasonable match, and then she’s acting as if I am the unreasonable one because I don’t want to be trussed up and presented before him as his personal _ whore_.” All around you, people walked and talked and laughed. Were they laughing at you or their own comments? This conversation felt simultaneously private and painfully public. “I am trying to consider your feelings, but all you are doing is making me feel ashamed for feeling mine.”

“Oh, (Name), I didn’t—” Shalltear tried to speak, but you could feel the hot pinpricks of tears at the backs of your eyes.

“Good evening,” you said, the air of finality in your tone. 

Stiff and unwieldy, your legs turned and moved back in the direction of the toy store, in front of which you knew the carriage was waiting. Thankfully, you and the Bloodfallen women had met at your destination, so you would not have to endure any uncomfortable silences on the way home. There was no way that you would abandon the heavily pregnant Lady Bloodfallen to find her own way home regardless of how you were feeling about her daughter. You saw Alexandra as you walked. Surely, she noticed the gathering liquid wavering—but staying through sheer force of will—in your eyes, but you did not know if she had overheard your searing review of your mother’s latest decisions.

“I want to go home,” you told her simply as you walked past.

“Of course, my lady,” Alexandra said quietly and bowed her head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made Rea quite the crybaby, didn't I? I promise: it won't last. Things will improve soon!
> 
> Thanks for reading and all the kudos! I'm happy to see my little pet project (and the lovely Gazef >////<) getting some attention. See you next time!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone!  
This update's short, but I'm almost done with the next chapter. I wanted to show how Rea reacts to the loneliness of being by herself, this time knowing full well that she doesn't have an army of people waiting around to make her feel better. It's some necessary development for this character. She is a brat. That's the point. And people don't change easily, so she needs a push. I promise there is a pay-off waiting on the horizon, but things will get worse before they get better.  
Honestly, I just wanted an excuse to write Gazef smut, and I didn't expect this story to turn into all this.  
In any case, I hope all of you enjoy the update! I have the next chapter pretty much lined up. It should be posted shortly. My favorite cinnamon roll gets some screen time, so to speak.  
Till next time!

Your fingers moved swiftly over the keys of your piano, keeping up the brisk pace of the composition while reading over the sheet music. But your finger slipped and pressed the wrong key, resulting in a sound too deep and too out of place for the established melody. Though you knew that you were supposed to keep going—pretend as if you had not made the mistake—you couldn’t help but stop.

You could hear your piano teacher encouraging you to try again. In the back of your head, she gave you a kind smile and repeated the words since she knew you well enough to know that you weren’t quite listening the first time. However, when you looked up at the usual place where she would stand—the space at the end of the piano pointed toward the window—she was not there. The realization made your shoulders slump. You allowed your fingers to slip from the keys. Would she ever come back? Did she actually hate you, and you just hadn’t noticed?

This attempt had been the fifth? Sixth? Though you had read over the music, doing your best to commit the notes to memory, you kept overshooting the key you needed. Your finger kept landing on the key to the left of it.

In addition to losing Shalltear, you were also losing your ability to play.

Lifting your hands to the keys again, you tried to play the composition again. You knew full well that your heart wasn’t in your practice today, but you had to try. You just needed to build up the muscle memory—beat it into your hands if it was necessary.

An hour of playing was wasted. Slipping the fallboard back into place, you stood from the piano. Your poor fingers ached from the intensity of your playing, which had only worsened the longer you forced yourself. Mistakes began creeping up even earlier than your problem note and, every time you made one, you restarted. It was wrong, but you couldn’t help yourself. It had to be _ perfect_.

Arabella stood with you, waiting for you to head towards the exit before moving from her place. 

You picked up the book of sheet music and then walked over to the bookcase of compositions to put it away. The idea of leaving your sheet music lying around unsettled you. Everything had to be neat and orderly.

On the way to your bedroom, you ignored Arabella’s presence. 

When you returned to your room, you noticed that it had been cleaned and returned to order. But you focused more on the absence of _ something _than the orderliness of your room. The feeling felt like a tickle in the back of your head. 

_ Something _ was amiss.

The first bouquet was gone. The blue one. You had loved it so much, and it was gone. Though you admitted that it was necessary—the petals had begun wilting and buds drooping—you had not wanted it gone. When you noticed that a couple of the petals had fallen off this morning, you discreetly disposed of them in an attempt to postpone the inevitable. You scowled at the place where it was no longer standing. The vase had disappeared, as well. You knew for certain that it was new, that the flowers had come in that particular vase, but whoever took it upon herself to clean your room unnecessarily had not returned it. You would have liked to keep the vase, perhaps place other flowers in it. But it was gone, and you didn’t want to ask about it. You didn’t know why the thought of asking for it bothered you so, but it did. 

Trying to ignore your newest source of irritation, you headed for your bookcase and plucked a book from the tallest shelf. You were about to go sit down in the window seat of your room when you skimmed the title and realized that you had read it before. How bothersome. You returned the book to its place and took the time to look for an unfamiliar name. But even when you found a book that you had not yet read, you did not head in the direction of the window seat. Instead, you walked over to the end table on which the remaining bouquet was standing. You examined the condition of the flowers. Today was the third day they had been standing in the water, but you had to wonder when they were cut. A few of the petals here and there were starting to wilt. You plucked them from the buds, the gold dust rubbing off on your fingers as a result.

You frowned at the gold dust. Lifting your hand to investigate it, you rubbed your fingers together. The thumb slipped up against the tips of your ring, middle, and pointer fingers, and then it went back down. After repeating this motion a couple of times, you realized that the gold dust made moving your fingers against each other easier. How pointless of an observation. You reached into a secret pocket of your dress with your left hand—the clean one—and removed a handkerchief to clean the dust from your hands.

Were you really spending your time trying to determine the qualities of this gold powder?

Before, the sycophants were constantly hanging around you: Lady Diane and Lady Polly and Lady Katherine and Lady Genevieve. You had felt suffocated by them. But now, they had decided to crowd around Albedo, adding to her already considerable collection. Your former suitors pursued her. You remembered her horrendous yellow dress and shit-eating grin from the ball. 

Had you really fallen so low that you missed the company of all the people you had considered extraneous?

You just wanted to chatter aimlessly with someone over tea or gossip about what Lady This and Lord That did at the last ball. You didn’t want to have to listen to Shalltear berate you even though you knew she was right.

Anything else. 

Even spending time with the king was preferable to being alone with your thoughts. 

At the realization, you froze. You _ wanted _ to spend time with the king? 

No, no. Absolutely not. There was no way that you wanted to be around him. 

Perish the thought. 


	12. Chapter 12

You were sulking. You knew as much. With some guilt, you glanced over at the large form casually strolling beside you through the park. Did he notice your even-less-enthusiastic-than-usual demeanor and was simply too polite to say anything about it? The latter would certainly fit what you knew of the man. You glanced around all the people who were watching your procession down the park path. 

Gazef Stronoff, _the King of the Re-estize Kingdom_, was all but announcing his intention of courting you by bringing you to such a public space.

Of course, his personal guard was accompanying you—and so was Alexandra, your black-clad shadow—but all of them were keeping a respectable distance. Did you truly think that someone would attack the king? No. Did his guard? No. Even if someone did, you were sure that the king would show everyone just how little he required his protectors. He was, after all, the greatest warrior that the Empire boasted. Was that why everyone seemed so eager for him to rule? Did they think that Gazef was going to play the part of some conquering hero? 

You looked at him from the corner of your eye again. He seemed content in the peace of the park, strolling beside you—hardly a conquering force.

It was not a good look to be so visibly upset as you surely appeared, not when there were so many people all around, not so casually staring at the two of you keeping pace. You had not strung together a sentence of more than five words to him all afternoon. You were being _ horrid_. Upon your return home, your mother would promptly receive an unflattering report about your behavior and then bear down on it appropriately. You could hear the scolding in the back of your head since you had already received one.

“I apologize for being such poor company,” you said to your companion.

Gazef turned his head in your direction and gave you an understanding smile. “Your simple presence is enough for me to enjoy such a lovely afternoon out,” he said. 

How could the king allow such words to pass his lips and still appear so genuine? The guilt that had settled in your stomach turned into a full roiling of your gut. You winced. Did he really enjoy your company as much as he claimed? If so, _ why _ did he enjoy your company so much? Could you trust his words?

Your mother’s earlier claims about his enjoyment of your pretty face floated around in the back of your head. Was it true? Did he like spending time with you out of purely physical desire? No. You could not fathom that the king—with all of his whole-hearted generosity, his kind smiles, and his easily dolled out compliments—only spent time with you because he _ wanted _you. There had been suitors who were purely interested in your physicality, and they had not acted the way that the king did.

You didn’t know what to make of him.

“That being said, I hope that I am not the source of your discontent.”

You shook your head, lying. He was the source. Constantly, at that. The thought made your guilt threaten to overtake you. Shalltear was _ right_. He was a good man—too good of a man for you and your poisonous thoughts.

“If it would help unburden your heart, then I would be willing to offer you my ear.” 

You turned your head completely. So few people had offered you so much while asking for so little. He was only thinking of you. He wanted to make _ you _ feel better. 

To calm the storm of guilt in your abdomen, you pressed your carefully shaped nails into the meat of your palm. The pain calmed you, allowing you to think clearly. 

“Shalltear and I had a disagreement.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He really _ did _ sound sorry.

You didn’t want to lie to him. It would only add to the shame that you were feeling. But you could hardly tell him the truth about your newest argument with Shalltear: that you balked at the thought of carrying his child because of his original lack of rank and the way your mother was treating you regarding him. Though she had never been the kindest or most supportive parental figure, you at least hadn’t felt so forced into something before. Certainly, she was quick to voice her discontent with your actions or throw a criticism your way, but this entire situation was so different. Finding a match was a topic in which she had always given you ground but, now, you wished that you had simply married one of your earlier suitors, back when there was a veritable collection of them lining up at the doors of the estate to be graced—however briefly—with your presence.

And then you would have an angry husband who would be chained to you despite the worthlessness of your current position. You had heard of men who would beat their wives and children, or spend their night hours gallivanting with prostitutes, gambling with their friends, drinking themselves blind. Back then, you looked for any sign that your suitor's behavior would devolve in any of the aforementioned ways and, upon finding it, would quickly reject him. Anyone who enjoyed his time at the tables or a drink more than you considered normal was not acceptable—the same for anyone quick to anger or raise a hand to a servant or animal. However, even as you looked at Gazef's much larger body, you could not even fathom that he would raise a hand to you. 

Looking around at the park again, you realized that you recognized many of the faces in your immediate vicinity. Some of the men were even your former suitors. But many of the women looked at your presence in the company of the king with disdain. Clearly, they had been hoping that he would single them out for courting—not you, the disgraced niece of the mad king.

You regretted looking around. Despite the guilt you were feeling, Gazef was much better company than their distant stares.

“She’s angry with me because of a disagreement we have carried for a very long time,” you explained to the king without doing much explaining. Hopefully, he would not pry.

“Can you really not come to a consensus?” Gazef inquired.

“I’ve been recently thinking that she is right, but.” You stopped. Would your next words make you look like a small, bitter person?

“But you do not want to back down after disagreeing for so long?” he asked. He looked as though he knew your exact sentiment.

You nodded eagerly. “I’m starting to see that she had a point. But Shalltear can be so smug that I don’t know how to broach the topic without making myself look like a complete ass.” As soon as you realized what had passed your lips, you froze. _ That word _ was not becoming of a young lady such as yourself. “I’m so sorry. I just. I.” You didn’t know how to proceed.

Gazef laughed but not cruelly. “Please do not worry. You did not say anything so scandalous.”

Cheeks burning, you fixed your gaze on the road.

“Lady (Name), I promise that you said nothing wrong,” Gazef said. He must have realized that you continued to wallow in your shame. Slowing his pace, he forced you to match his and then very seriously said, “I also worry about making myself look like a complete ass, especially in front of all the nobility by whom I am constantly surrounded.”

His candid speech made something you didn’t quite understand flip in your stomach. Did he forget that you were a part of the nobility that apparently so concerned him?

You responded with a noncommittal, “Hmm.”

“But I think that Lady Shalltear is your friend, and she will not shame you for admitting your mistake.” He tried to give you a reassuring smile. “I have noticed that she seems particularly fond of you. And I’m sure that nothing you say will ruin her opinion of your character.”

He was right. But how was he right? He had only seen the two of you together the night of the ball. Your confusion must have tinged your expression because Gazef immediately followed up his assessment by saying, “I have spent much time at the Bloodfallen estate because of Jacob.”

You had not realized that he was on such close terms with Shalltear’s father.

“And have heard Lady Shalltear speak about her best friend with nothing but kindness.”

His words warmed some unnameable part of you. 

“She had missed you greatly because of the earlier discontent.” If you didn’t know any better, then you might have even thought that he looked ashamed because of his part in the _ earlier discontent_. “So, please, do not worry about looking like an ass. It’s not worth it to force yourself to stay away from a person you love because of your pride. I learned that the hard way.” Something sad lingered in his expression, darkening the corners of his eyes as he alluded to some long gone disagreement of his own. “Perhaps you can learn from my mistake.”

You wondered who the source of Gazef's regret was. A family member? Friend? Lover? You were undeniably curious, but you didn't think it was appropriate to dig into his past, especially when it seemed to bother him so. Of course, some people would see nothing wrong with prying since Gazef had brought up the matter first, but you refrained. As he was not volunteering more information, you believed that he preferred not to discuss it despite the allusion. Besides, he wasn’t the only one keeping information secret. You weren’t exactly dying to tell him what you had thought of him.

"You bring up a good point," you responded.

"Thank you," he said. "But truly, please speak to her. I'm sure she regrets letting this disagreement get to this point just as much as you do."

You winced.

"Do you disagree?"

Nodding, you admitted, "She was very angry with me when we last spoke.”

Gazef appeared curious but, just like you, he didn't ask for clarification. The earlier guilt made a reappearance. You couldn't tell him that you had fought because Shalltear was so tired of trying to convince you that the king was a good person. 

“You’re right,” you said. Some part of you balked at your readiness to speak those words. “I shouldn’t let my pride ruin my friendship with her. Shalltear has been my friend since the two of us were ten years old, and she’s only done well by me. Even if she didn’t do it very kindly.”

Gazef grinned. He looked handsome when he smiled like that, and you smiled in response. You couldn’t deny that he put you at ease. Speaking to him came easily when you weren’t being angry with him for the sin of existing. He was a good listener, and he was honest. You felt so horrible for the things you had said and thought about him.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out. Heat colored your cheeks at Gazef’s confusion. You couldn’t very well tell him that you were apologizing for something about which he hadn’t been aware. “For wasting our time talking about my problems,” you added, looking away from his terribly honest face.

“Please, don’t worry.”

When you glanced up at him, he was wearing a reassuring smile. Your cheeks only burned more.

“But, if you want to make it up to me,” Gazef began. You looked up at him in earnest and furrowed your brow. What was he going to ask you to do? Distrust immediately lashed out at his statement. “Then you can tell me how your vegetables are doing.”

Guilt roiled in your gut again. Why had your first instinct been to react so negatively? Shalltear had asked you for plenty of favors before, and you had never distrusted her so completely. Hadn’t Gazef proven to you already that there was no need for you to worry about his motivations?

You tried to smile in response, but it felt weak. “They’re doing well.” Gazef returned to his prior pace, and you were glad to have something else on which to focus. “The older plants are still developing plenty of produce, and the new ones are growing nicely.”

“That’s good,” Gazef responded.

For a few moments, the two of you walked in silence. He appeared content, but you felt anxious. You needed to have something to say to fill the void. “What do you in your free time?” you asked. The moment the words passed your lips, you realized two things: how pathetic you sounded, as well as the fact that you had taken so long to inquire about his day-to-day activities.

The king did not seem to mind. “You’re assuming I have free time.” He laughed. It was a deep, pleasant sound. You wanted him to laugh some more.

“Do you not?” you asked.

Gazef sighed, “It feels like I do not most days, no.” Remembering himself, Gazef turned to you and lifted an arm to run through his hair. The action must have been a tic of his as a response to discomfort. You had noticed him do it before. But you weren’t bothered by it. As a matter of fact, you flicked your eyes in the direction of his arm just in time to see his muscles move under his coat. The springtime weather meant that his light coat was thin enough—and stretched thin enough on his large arms—to not obscure the subtle movements. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I did not mean to sound like I am complaining.”

You frowned at the fact that he felt the need to explain away his dissatisfaction. “I don’t mind. I just spent a long time complaining about my argument with Shalltear.” To your surprise, your words were completely genuine. You didn’t mind listening to him. Almost imperceptibly, his shoulders slumped before returning to their usual discipline.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice soft. When he resumed his statements, he spoke quietly. “Much of my time is spent in meetings with my advisors. They quibble and argue over every suggestion anyone makes. They have turned down more ideas than they have accepted. Trying to fix the mess the coup made has no easy answer. The people seem satisfied with me, but our neighboring empires do not. They worry that I am interested in expansion when all I want is to return peace of mind to a paranoid populace.”

The problems that Gazef listed came as a surprise to you. But you remembered Shalltear’s constant complaints that your mother made sure to keep you utterly out of the loop when it came to politics. “Are the people truly so paranoid?”

Gazef nodded. “They seem to trust me but not the nobility. I constantly have to make personal assurances that we are working together to ensure the best for the future of the empire. I didn’t mind doing that so much before, but the months have been long. And they wear on me.”

You made a small noise of confirmation that you heard Gazef, but you didn’t know what to say to him. 

“Our time together is one of the few opportunities that I have to relax,” Gazef admitted.

“That doesn’t sound good for you,” you responded.

“Probably not,” he agreed. After a moment, he added, “When I can, I try to spend some time sparring with the royal guard or my friend Brain Unglaus. But I haven’t been able to train for as long as I prefer.”

You had heard of Brain Unglaus. He had a reputation for being the second strongest warrior in the empire. “How much time would be enough?” you inquired.

“A couple of hours a day.”

Your brows lifted from their usual position on your face. “Why so long?”

“I usually spar with many, and they always seem to have a hard time against me. It does not bother me so much.” Gazef tried to look modest, but some pride leaked into his expression. You tried not to smile at the sight and failed. 

Covering your mouth, you giggled into your hand.

“What?” Gazef asked, but his tone was mild. He seemed amused by your amusement. When you turned to look at him, you saw fondness in his expression for just a moment before he turned towards the path you were walking.

“I simply thought that your _ honorable _majesty was incapable of looking so prideful, but I suppose that you are just as human as the rest of us,” you commented. You tried to sound as prim and proper as you could.

Gazef sighed, but his smile remained on his face. “Whatever gave you the idea that I wasn’t just as human?”

You shrugged.

“Lady (Name), I do believe that you think too highly of me.”

Your expression devolved into a smirk, but it was teasing, not malicious. Gazef seemed surprised that you could look such a way. “Apparently so. But you should be careful about revealing something so unflattering. What will the others think?”

“I think that you’re the only one who held such a high opinion of me,” he responded. 

Guilt shot down your spine. No, you most definitely didn’t. You could feel your smirk waver, and you tried to force it back into place, but you no longer had the heart to tease him. “I wonder about that,” you said. It was vague enough to not feel like a lie.

The king sighed. “I think I preferred it when you were too shy to speak to me.”

You huffed out a breath in shock. “How incredibly rude,” you scolded him.

Laughing, he shrugged. “I admit that it was. I apologize.” He turned his abdomen towards you to look at you fully and half-bowed his head. “Truly.”

Ducking your chin towards your chest, you avoided eye contact with him. “I suppose I can forgive you.” But then you laughed. You gave him a wide grin. It was _ easy _ to talk to him so openly. 

Gazef grinned at you in response. “Unfortunately, that’s all I can really tell you about my usual activities,” he said. 

“Hmm?”

“I don’t have many hobbies. I’m a boring old man.”

You looked at him from the corner of your eyes. Oddly enough, he was serious. “I don’t think you’re boring.” You felt surprised that your words were _ honest_. “Or old,” you added.

“You’re too kind,” he responded. 

No. You really weren’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow wow. Wowwowwow.  
Rea can act like a normal person!  
Incredible. Absolutely phenomenal.  
Till next time. :D


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, okay. Here's another chapter lol. I've been writing pretty consistently recently, so I'm updating often. Hopefully it'll last. Who knows. Maybe I'm not a total bum.

Sitting in the carriage with Alexandra silently across from you, you looked from the small, covered window, up at the smooth walnut wood of the ceiling, and then at the other small, covered window fitted into the top of the door. You were bored firmly out of your mind. The book that sat in your lap did nothing to interest you. It didn’t have a hope of interesting you, not with how horribly violent your motion sickness would become if you even attempted to look at the front page. Even now, you were doing your best to stave off the creeping nausea that was haunting the back of your mind—and stomach. 

You gripped the cover of the book before you remembered yourself. Glancing down at the green leather, you appraised it for any damage that your fingers might have caused before looking back out the window. The thin curtains only barely obscured the world outside of your carriage.

“_Mother_,” _ you asked so sweetly_.

_ Her usual blank expression looked up at you from the document that she was studying_. _ You recognized the sloping hand of Lord Bloodfallen_. _ Why were the two of _ them _ sharing communication_? _ They _ hated _ each other_. “_Yes_, _ dearest daughter _ ?” _ she asked, her tone completely flat_.

“_With your permission_, _ I would like to buy something_,” _ you said_. _ You waited for her exasperated sigh_, _ but it never came._

“_And what would you like to buy _ ?” _ she asked_. “_I bought you a new dress recently_. _ And two collections of jewelry._” 

Your thoughts briefly flickered to the gorgeous peach gown—perfect for the warming weather—that was currently sitting in your closet, simply waiting for the right occasion to be worn, and the two sets of accessories. One was made from gold and rubies with the occasional spessartite garnets and citrine gemstones. When they caught the light, the individual pieces looked as if they were aflame but, together on your person, they made you look _ otherworldly_. The other set was much more subdued: a pure, virginal collection of pearls. The latter would be a delicate companion to the peach gown, but you had yet to find a pair for the former.

“_No_, _ no_,” _ you had said_. “_Nothing for me_.”

_Your mother_’_s_ _brows rose just a fraction_. _She was surprised at your generosity_. “_Then for whom_?”

_ Cheeks burning_, _ you forced the words from your mouth_. “_The king_. _ When we spoke_, _ he told me that he does not have many hobbies_, _ so I thought that_, _ perhaps_, _ a book of poetry might be a good gift_. _ Something brief to read before bed or in_-_between moments of activity_.”

_ Your mother did not respond_. _ You felt foolish for bringing it up_. 

“_No_, _ you_’_re right_,” _ you said to her silence_. “_It is a silly idea from a silly girl_.”

“_No_, _ no_. _ I think that it is a good idea to get him a present_. _ As a show of good faith_. _ He has been practically drowning you with gifts despite his frugality_.”

You had been surprised at the information. Though the presents that he brought were by no means gaudy displays of wealth, they were clearly expensive. Even the bouquets that the king gave you at the start of every meeting featured rare and expensive blooms, not to mention the small decorations like the gold dust or the bird or butterfly pins hidden among the flowers. Gazef was frugal. It made sense. You had simply thought that the king had good taste, but there was another motivator behind the castle’s new decor and the subdued tokens he bought you: saving money.

When your mother gave you the money for a particularly expensive, hand-made book, you had been thrilled. She thought that you had a good idea! She didn’t even tell you what she thought that you ought to buy because she trusted in the taste that you had long since cultivated. After all, you had been an avid reader of literature since you were a child, which was even before you began fussing over ballgowns and jewelry. However, when it came to the matter of choosing a book of poetry for him, you were somewhat lost.

Your eyes ran along the books of all shapes and sizes, with dyed leather covers and inlaid gold designs.

Perhaps the _ Aeneid _ by Virgil? No, no. After a moment of consideration, you decided that you did not want to give him that particular book for a multitude of reasons. The first among them was that the _ Aeneid _ was ultimately a story of war and conquest. You did not want to suggest that he ought to emulate Aeneas, mostly because you thought that Aeneas made a poor showing as a protagonist. The other reason why you did not buy that book for Gazef was that the whole point of getting him a book of poetry was to have _ short _ poems for him to read during a moment of respite. Virgil had a bad habit of going on and on. 

Your eyes flickered instead to the red leather of Ovid’s _ Amores_. You could feel your cheeks turning a red that could rival the cover. Shalltear had insisted that you read _ Amores_, and you had as a favor to her. Though Shalltear loved Ovid’s vulgar poetry, it had flustered you completely. She had cackled thoroughly at your hot cheeks and sputtering response.

Shalltear. You still hadn’t apologized. You didn’t have the time! The entire week following your last meeting with Gazef had been completely full of all sorts of time consuming activities.

Finally, you had settled on the green cover of Ovid’s _ Metamorphoses_. The book was full of many violent stories, but it was fascinating. It was an excellent work. Maybe Gazef might like it? Then you would have more to discuss. When you first discovered the _ Metamorphoses_, you had read the poems over and over. You still remembered them rather well. Or did you? Perhaps you ought to reread them to recall the finer details should the king decide to grace you with his thoughts. 

The movements of the carriage stopped, and the driver stepped down from his seat to open the door for you and your constant shadow.

Today, you were visiting the king at the castle—calling upon him, as it were. You walked out. Nervous but you walked. You felt no hesitation as you approached the front doors, already being held open by the smartly dressed butlers in the employ of the king. However, you did feel a little anxiety—just a tad. _ Butterflies _ fluttered in your stomach.

You told yourself that it was because of the gift that you were holding in your hands. Would the king like it, or would he believe you too presumptuous, trying to fill his busy days even further with a book? You just wanted him to relax. Perhaps, he would think of you as he read or keep the book on his bedside table within easy reach. Maybe it would remind him to relax even if he didn’t actually read the poetry. Still, you hoped that he would.

All around you, the castle’s halls seemed big and forbidding. One of the butlers had been directed to bring you to the king when you had arrived, and you followed him. 

The marble floors clacked with every step that you, your shadow, and the butler took. You had loved the sound when you were a child, visiting your uncle and aunt and older cousin. But your mother had ended the visits so suddenly when you were fifteen. At the reminder, your shoulders slumped, but you quickly brought your posture back to the level your mother had trained into you. _ You are royalty_, the judgmental voice that sounded like your mother scolded. 

No, you were no longer royalty. Maybe you might become royalty again, but it would only be because the king decided to take pity and marry you. 

You still remembered the day when your mother disallowed you from visiting the castle with her while she attended to matters of state with your uncle. Back then, you had asked her why. You _ loved _ your little tea parties with your aunt and cousin. He had been your closest friend before even Shalltear despite the large age gap between the two of you: you with your fifteen years and he with his twenty-three, the same age you were now. When you had been a child, he had always dutifully followed you around and helped you navigate the labyrinthine grounds of the castle. Renner would never hold your hand like you wanted, but he would pet your head and call you his “little doll.” You remembered his short, blond hair and beautiful, blue eyes. He had been like an angel.

He had been _ your _ angel. 

Before, back when he was alive, and you were a child, you had called him that. You remembered how his eyes had lit up at the nickname, but he asked you never to call him that in front of everyone else. When he made you promise that, you weren’t sure why he would want you to keep such a nickname private. Looking back on the whole situation, you decided that he must have been embarrassed at the thought of others hearing you. Calling him an angel was a bit much. 

But he was gone now, and so were your aunt and uncle. 

You missed them—but mostly him. Your life had been a long line of losses, starting with your father.

“_You are not behaving as royalty should_,” your mother had told you in response to your inquiry following her announcement that you were not allowed to spend time at the castle any more. You hadn’t known what she meant. When you asked for more information about how to change her mind, how to get her to reconsider her disapproval of your actions, she did not tell you what to improve.

However, she was all too happy to let you visit the castle and see the king. Perhaps you had fixed whatever she thought was wrong with you. It was more likely that the change in her opinion simply resulted because the circumstances were different. Now, she needed you to visit the castle in order to spend time with the king and charm him. But you didn’t hate your role as much as you did before. You could almost even say that you liked spending time with him. You even liked him enough to beg your mother for the money to buy a rather expensive gift.

Asking her for it was not a problem because she didn’t like spending money on you. What she hated was actually _ giving _ you money. Your mother preferred to simply procure the current objects of your desire for you. Nothing you had done all your life showed her that you could be trusted with something so valuable.

“Lady (Name), welcome,” Gazef said in greeting. His eyes betrayed an exhaustion that you hadn’t noticed before. Did you not notice it before because you weren't looking or because you didn't want to look? You and Alexandra both sunk into deep curtsies before the king, and he dismissed the movement quickly. He was still made uncomfortable by the show of servility. Unlike you, he had not grown up experiencing it. 

Looking around the room, you didn’t notice anyone else. It was private—just the three of you. The room itself was lovely, likely one of many drawing rooms in the castle meant for attending to guests. A pleasant spring green, the walls reflected the blooming life outside. They made you want to wander the gardens of the castle, see what was growing here for yourself. Did your mother have a hand in the landscaping for the castle in the time of your uncle, or did she keep her undeniable talent with plants confined to the vast estates of your home?

There were some paintings on the walls: one particularly large one on the wall along which the entrance and exit moved. It was a beautiful landscape of a lakeside with people dressed in bright, spring colors and all looking in the direction of the lake. You could not see a single face. All around them, the lakeside was blooming with new life. You recognized the delicate, new leaves growing on the trees, and the still-closed buds—some tight and others on the verge of blossoming—on the bushes and vines. The other paintings were all in the same vein: some sort of beautiful landscape or plant life. Other than the aforementioned painting, there were no people. You wondered if Gazef had chosen the room specifically because of its decor. The couches themselves had a dark brown fabric stretched over the cushions. It looked plush.

You wondered if you would greet visitors in this room one day.

It was not, however, a terribly big room. Your conversation would have to be somewhat subdued today because you were sure that Alexandra was going to overhear _ everything_. And your prediction became certainty when Gazef invited her to sit with you and him to take tea.

“Thank you, your majesty,” Alexandra responded, discomfort clear to you in her expression. She was unused to having to speak to your companions. You wondered if she truly were more comfortable in the role of shadow. “But it is not necessary. I am simply here in the capacity of chaperone. You do not have to mind me.”

“Please,” Gazef insisted. He was too nice, but you already knew that.

Looking to you, Alexandra inclined her head as if to ask what you wanted her to do. She did not know how to proceed. She likely spent so much time being told what to do by your mother that she erred on the side of caution when it came to making decisions for herself.

“Please join us,” you said with a tight smile. You did not want her there, so obviously listening in your conversation. You preferred her being far enough away that she would not be able to easily eavesdrop. Unfortunately, Gazef was too nice. Glancing over at the king, you wondered if he would sit down. 

“Please, both of you,” he said, indicating to the couches. According to the rules of polite society, you should not sit down before a king, but he had always been so insistent that you had gotten used to him breaking those rules. You took a seat—not in the center but one person’s width to the right—on one of the two couches arranged around a coffee table that had small snacks and tea already prepared for your visit. Alexandra sat down on the same couch but not too close. Her distance from you could have easily been filled by another person.

At least the couch was comfortable. 

Once the two of you were seated, Gazef took his own position across from you in the center of his couch. He must not have wanted to appear like he would only pay attention to you, which was unfortunate since some small part of you would have preferred that. He looked down at the book in your lap with a measure of interest. This meeting was the first time that you had brought anything with you.

“Oh,” you said, remembering that you had brought it for _ him_. Upon entering the castle, you had spent so much time in your own head that you completely forgot about the gift even as you continued to clutch it in your hands. “I,” you started. Goodness, your cheeks felt hot. “I hope you do not consider it presumptuous but, following our earlier conversation, I decided to get a book of poetry for you.”

Gazef looked down to the green leather cover with its golden adornments.

“Please.” You held it out to him over the table.

He leaned forward and took it into his hands carefully, reverentially. Gazef must have recognized that this book was expensive. He didn’t say anything as he examined the cover, or when he slowly opened it.

“You don’t have to be so careful,” you said with a smile. You could _ feel _ Alexandra examining your expression. Was it truly so strange for you to act in a pleasant manner towards the king? “It is made to hold up to some amount of use.”

Laughing, Gazef scoffed. “Is that so?”

From the corner of your eye, you watched as Alexandra reacted to the casual manner with which the king responded to you. She looked shocked that the two of you had even gotten to this point. Of course, he likely didn’t even notice that she responded at all. Her eyes only grew slightly wider. To someone who didn’t spend his entire life observing Alexandra’s passive expression, the small changes in her face did not mean anything.

You tried to sound casual when you laughed, but you were still worried about your audience. Though you hadn’t meant to start teasing him again, you preferred him casual and joking rather than terribly serious, so you continued in such a manner despite your concerns. “Yes, it is. Of course, that does not mean you should man-handle it.”

Gazef raised his eyebrows at your teasing. “Do you think I am incapable of turning a page without putting force into it?” He did not seem bothered by Alexandra’s presence. Of course, he wasn’t. He had been the one to invite her.

“Well, you have made it seem like you are completely unbothered by spending hours sparring, so perhaps you have grown too used to swinging a sword around, and your hands are in need of reeducating.” You delivered that line with a grin despite yourself.

Having only released a brief "ha" at your comment, Gazef immediately began coughing and looked back down at the cover.

Was there something wrong with what you said?

Alexandra not so casually looked at you from the corners of her widened eyes. By all accounts, she appeared _ scandalized_.

You thought back to your exact words. You had mentioned his apparent ability to spend hours performing physical ability, which extended to the action of swinging a sword. And then you made the suggestion that his _ hands are in need of reeducating_. Glancing down to Gazef’s hands, which were cradling the book so gently, you tried to think if there was anything apparently _ wrong _ about what you had said. Shalltear’s numerous lecherous comments about men’s hands filtered into the back of your mind. The realization of the apparent implications of your statement made you physically startle.

“I. I,” you started. You couldn’t even force the following words from your tongue. Humiliation made your cheeks and ears grow hot.

The king finished coughing. He flicked his eyes towards Alexandra before looking back at you. Now, he appeared to regret his decision to invite her to more actively spend time with you. Trying to appear as casual as possible, Gazef asked, “Why did you choose this particular book?”

But you could not banish your embarrassment from your mind. You felt like you were drowning in a sea of humiliation. Shalltear would have _ loved _ this entire situation. However, the mental summoning of Shalltear meant that you were suddenly hit with the crushing weight of combined sorrow and humiliation. You were quickly reminded that you hadn't even tried to get in contact with her or apologize for your boorish behavior. Tears stung the backs of your eyes. Nothing in your life could have even begun to prepare you to deal with what you said.

Was the king disgusted by your poor word choice? He didn’t appear to have recoiled from your statement. He was not looking at you any differently.

As a matter of fact, Gazef appeared just as embarrassed as you. The lewd implication of your teasing had apparently affected him, as well. 

“Lady (Name), please,” he said. He sounded somewhat desperate. “Do not fret.”

How could you _ not _ when you said something like that to him? You didn't want him to think poorly of you; you realized that with a start. But your realization only made you feel worse. "I'm" was the only word that you could say. Very clearly, you were doing the opposite of what he had begged you not to do, but you couldn't stop. Your horror only grew worse when you remembered that Alexandra had witnessed this exchange firsthand, and she would likely relay it to your mother. 

Standing up abruptly, you couldn't even excuse yourself properly.

All you could do was run out of the drawing room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Rea made a sex joke! Amazing! Too bad she immediately freaked out lol. I was trying to think of a universe where this particular character would actually be able to handle her embarrassment, but I couldn't, and I didn't want to get rid of the joke. It just kind of happened, and I thought it was brilliant. The whole set up with Alexandra sitting there would have just made it worse. Maybe if Shalltear were there, instead, then she would have been able to get over it. But Gazef is going to need to calm her down. Poor dude.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I thought I wasn't a bum? HA HA. I was wrong.  
Anyway, enjoy ^^

You didn’t get very far, just two rooms over. It was another drawing room—not as pretty as the first but still pleasing to the eye. This one was also decorated with spring colors, but the couches looked a little more worn and the paintings featured people enjoying the warm weather rather than focusing on the reviving plant life. You wondered if Gazed specifically chose that room because of its subject matter. It would be in character for him to be so considerate of your preferences as he was one of very few people who seemed truly interested in finding out about them. 

Sinking down onto the couch, you tried to calm your thundering heart. 

Your hands shook from anxiety.

Though you would have been able to live down the king's witnessing your embarrassment, Alexandra's presence was a problem. What would your mother even say? You shuddered. Surely, her response would be nothing good. Could you convince Alexandra to overlook your words? 

Your straightened your elbows and placed your hands on your knees. Pressing your palms into the light blue fabric of your dress, you tried to tense your muscles in order to banish your trembling. It was all you could do not to completely dissolve into tears.

"Lady (Name)?" You heard Gazef's voice before you heard his steps.

You didn't want to see him just yet! You were still trying to relax. In the back of your throat, panic rose up with bile.

"Can I come in?" Gazef asked. From behind the door frame, you could see his shoulder.

"Yes, I suppose," you said. Your heartbeat increased at the sight of him lingering in the doorway, but you could see so little of him from where you were sitting. Gazef probably wasn’t trying to linger or make you nervous. It was more likely that you could simply see him past the frame because of his broad shoulders. However, after he stepped out from behind it, you felt calmer from looking upon his mild expression. You had almost expected him to look at you with distaste or disgust, but he had neither.

He asked, "How are you feeling?"

Seeing him right now? You felt ridiculous. You said as much.

Pressing the corners of his lips into a small smile, Gazef proceeded to move down to his knee before you. He was just down on one, the left knee on the floor with the right leg bent. You watched his body move. Then you promptly froze at the realization that he was lowering himself in such a way before you. From this position, you could just see the top of his head—the rich, dark hair that decorated it. He glanced at your arms and shoulders but, ultimately, decided to lean his arms on the knee that he was not standing on. Did he want to touch you? You wouldn’t have minded, but it would have been a new experience. You had never been touched by a man outside of the necessary hand-clasping required in a dance. You had never felt another body pressing tight against yours or arms holding you gently. Wait. No, that part wasn’t important even if it made your heart race again. He was on his knee!

Perhaps you might have enjoyed the sight a month ago—believed it the right way for a peasant to stand in front of a noblewoman—but, now, it only made your blood freeze. "Your majesty," you whispered. Glancing in the direction of the doorway, you tried to find Alexandra. Surely, she followed the king. She was no fool. Even if he did not tell her that he meant to comfort you, she would have been able to determine so much by herself, especially once he headed in the direction you had fled. But you could not see her. Returning your eyes to the sight of the king in front of you, you spoke quickly, "You must stand. Please. This is highly improper."

He smiled. "I am the king. I can do as I please. Even if it means to stand down on one knee in front of you."

Frowning, you tried to stop the wheeze of discomfort that your lungs wanted to release. "Please. You cannot. I'm your subject."

"Lady (Name)," the king spoke. His steady gaze made you uncomfortable, but you looked into his eyes.

This occasion was the first where you had actually looked into them. The realization made you freeze. How often did you really make eye-contact with others? The answer was not often. It was intimate—too intimate for you. But Gazef was so close that his chest was almost touching your knees, and his face was at the same level as yours. If you tried to move from your place, then you would surely press your legs against him. How improper! You had no way to stand until he moved. But you had the feeling that he didn’t want you to stand. For the first time, you noticed just how beautiful his eyes were. They were a shale gray, the deepest and stormiest you had ever seen.

You realized that the king had said your name. “Yes?” you asked.

“Please believe me when I say that I am not upset at your joke,” he said. At this distance, he didn’t need to speak loudly for you to hear him. If he really wanted, then he could have easily kissed you. Or you could kiss him. You shivered and tried not to look straight at his lips. 

“I believe you,” you said quietly. Other things were currently at the forefront of your mind.

He smiled. He looked relieved.

All you wanted to do was melt against him. Once you gave the desire form, you almost immediately back-pedaled. Even as images—wrapping your arms around his shoulders, leaning against his solid chest, pressing your lips against his—flitted through the back of your mind, you tried very hard to stay incredibly still and silent. 

"Why did you react so poorly?" he asked, dragging you from your thoughts. They still danced around. They teased you.

"I," you started to say before you stopped speaking. You were constantly terrified of not being royal enough—or even just generally enough. Of course, when he would inevitably ask why you’re terrified that you’re not enough, you would have to tell him that your mother had spent every moment of your life reminding you that you’re not good enough in one way or another. And that reason is one that you didn’t want to have to mention to Gazef. After all, he was apparently rather good friends with her, and she was _ nice _to him. You had no doubt that Gazef would not believe you. “My mother won’t approve of such language,” you explained instead. It wasn’t technically a lie. She had heard Shalltear on occasion and made sure to tell you that she was utterly opposed to you speaking in such a manner. It wasn’t even ladylike in addition to being unworthy of royalty. 

For a moment, Gazef did not say anything. He appeared to have been processing your response. “I understand why she might not want you to make jokes like that, but I don’t believe that it is so bad of a sin,” Gazef finally said.

“She does,” you responded immediately.

He seemed a little shocked at how quick your response was. “I understand.”

You were glad that he did not disagree with you, but you were not sure if he really did believe you. “I never speak in such a way.”

“No?”

“No.” Frowning, you added, “It is unfortunately Shalltear’s influence.”

“Shalltear does say a great many things.” It didn’t sound like an agreement or a disagreement, but the king was smiling at you, so you knew that he was familiar with Shalltear’s wicked tongue.

“I am somewhat surprised that she was so bold as to make those jokes in front of you, your majesty.”

Sighing, Gazef requested, “Can you please refrain from referring to me as ‘your majesty’?”

You raised your brow with some shock.

“Please. Just call me Gazef.” He looked tired. You hadn’t expected such a response from him.

“Do you not like being king?” you inquired.

“I. I don’t believe I do, no.” Frowning, Gazef continued, “It’s difficult work. I did not envy your uncle when he was the king, and I do not envy myself now. Bodyguard work was easier.”

Again, he mentioned your uncle. “Do you think about the past sometimes? Back when my uncle was king, and you were just a bodyguard?”

“All the time,” he admitted, his eyes crinkling with the happiness of nostalgia. “He was one of my best friends despite our difference in position.”

You nodded. You wanted Gazef to keep talking. He was the only one who still spoke of your uncle kindly, and you had loved him even after your mother had banned you from the castle, and you stopped seeing him as much.

“He often spoke to me about his problems or problems with the managing of the empire. The only reason why I am half as good at statecraft as I am is because he talked those issues out with me." He paused and averted his eyes, more out of embarrassment than anything else. "He had also tried to convince me to get married ages ago.”

“Why didn’t you?” you asked.

“I was always busy. I thought that I could put it off till later. And then I became too old.”

You wanted to scoff at his statement. He was a man. There was no age limit for marriage for him. But you, with your twenty-three years, were practically an old maid. “Why did you think yourself too old?” you asked, instead. 

Gazef looked away from your face and, instead, focused on his hands. “Most people my age have been married for years. Perhaps even a decade or more. I’m thirty-five, Lady (Name).”

“No, no,” you said. “If you want me to call you Gazef, then you must call me (Name).”

He smiled and looked up at you. “Fine then. (Name).”

“Gazef,” you said in response with a small nod. “Anyway, thirty-five is not too old for a man,” you said.

For a couple of moments, he said nothing. “Were you okay with being told that you will be courted by a thirty-five year old, La—I mean, (Name)?”

You sighed. “I accepted the fact that I might be married to an older man when I was still a teenager,” you admitted. “I have a cousin married to a man who is fifty years older than her. It could be worse.”

“But you would prefer someone your age?”

“I don’t know that I would.” You thought back to your long line of suitors. “I had been courted by many of the eligible bachelors in the empire and some outside of it before. Before.” Averting your eyes, you looked down at your hands. “And many of them were my age or just a couple of years older. And they were still boys. You are easier to speak with, and you offer very good advice. I think that I enjoy your company the most out of any suitor I have had.”

“I thank you for your compliments,” Gazef said. His voice was quiet.

“They’re not compliments. They are merely statements of fact.” You smiled at him, and he smiled back. Seeing him this way warmed your heart. You could almost forget all the trouble that you would be in upon your return home.

"Speaking of my advice, did you speak to Shalltear yet?"

Ashamed, you looked away. He would surely be annoyed with you once he found out that you had wasted a week when you could have long apologized to Shalltear.

"It's okay if you hadn't," he said, anticipating your response. But you had not expected his. If your mother had told you to do something, and you hadn't done it for a week, then she would have reacted very poorly indeed. However, Gazef was not your mother. She wouldn't have even taken the time to hear you out or advise you. She would have told you off for wasting her time. How many times had Gazef been able to comfort you where your mother could not? The blue flowers he had given you the day after the ball and the note he left were just the beginning. Gazef hadn’t even meant to comfort you with then, but he had anyway. Also, he had been so kind the first time he visited when he complimented your ability to grow plants. The realization made you want so much to throw your arms around him and hold him close. But the flash of black in the corner of your eye—Alexandra lingering in the doorway to the room—reminded you of your position. 

"I didn't,” you admitted.

"May I ask what is stopping you?" Though your mother would have used the same words, Gazef's tone was patient, understanding. You were embarrassed for your actions but, at least, you didn't feel ashamed of them.

"I. I was busy," you said. The excuse sounded lame to your ears. You sighed and folded one of your hands over the other. "Mostly, I was scared of Shalltear's response. So when my mother told me to go do something or other, I simply worked on that, instead."

Gazef nodded. "It's okay to be scared, but you don't want to take too much time to apologize. It gets harder the longer you allow fear fester." He smiled and caught your eye, which eased some of your discomfort. "Besides, Shalltear is your friend. I think she regrets what she said just as much as you do."

Thinking back to your argument, you realized that Shalltear tried to call you back and apologize. You had been the one that didn't want to listen. "You're right," you said quietly. "She tried to apologize even then. I just." You stopped talking and pressed your hands together, shoulders slumping forward with the movement. "I didn't listen."

Gazed nodded. "It's easy to ignore an apology when you're upset. But I think that the fact that Shalltear tried to take her words back means that she won't be opposed to you trying to reconcile."

"You're right," you said. "I should."

"Why not call on her on your way home?"

You froze and glanced over at the doorway. Even with the wall in the way, you could feel Alexandra listening in and watching, somehow. "Mother said to return to the estate immediately. She had ordered another dress for the upcoming ball, and she wants me to try it on, so Melissa can make any last minute alterations before it. She's supposed to be waiting for me there, too."

"That's too bad," Gazef said. "But the Bloodfallens are hosting this ball, are they not?"

"Yes."

"Then you will definitely see her then, if nothing else."

You agreed.

"I will be there, too," he said.

Heart beating a little harder, you asked, "You will?"

"Yes." The corners of his mouth quirked into a small smile. "We can dance again if you so wish."

Images of the king dancing with you on the first night you had officially met flashed through your head: his large hand cradling yours, the occasional press of it against your hip, and the fast pace of the music. You felt butterflies again. 

"Yes. I would like that very much."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, this one is a long chapter. I had a lot of things I wanted to cover in it, and the page count just kinda got away from me. It's officially my longest one in this story at almost eight pages. But hey! There's a lot to read.  
Gazef doesn't feature so heavily in this chapter since since I wanted to focus on the Shalltear / Rea friendship and her apology to Shalltear for being a butt, but he's there at the end.  
Anyway! Enjoy everyone! I always appreciate all your lovely comments and kudos! They really make my day <3

You were reminded of just how much Lady Bloodfallen had taken to her husband’s surname when you entered the ballroom of their estate. While most of the decorations were a crisp white, there was the occasional splotch of blood red: red, ornate lace accents over white tablecloths, red coats with otherwise white uniforms for the waiters, and red patterns on the bone white china. 

Lord Bloodfallen had once referred to his wife’s fascination as morbid, unfortunately for him, within earshot of Shalltear, who was not afraid of her father in the least. She had given him a proper verbal lashing, so much so that he refused to speak with his daughter for the best part of a month. Among the choicest insults were that he was a “pathetic, drunken oaf,” that he “spent too much time neck deep in the bottle,” and that she had no idea how her “saintly mother could bear to tolerate” him. Of course, you had been there for the drama. It had taken place during a dinner you shared with the Bloodfallens. Though Lady Bloodfallen had calmed Shalltear down once it had gone on for long enough, you were sure that she didn’t entirely mind that Shalltear had come to her defense. Lady Bloodfallen was a much more mild-mannered woman than her daughter, but there was some side of her that seemed to encourage Shalltear’s bloodthirstiness—figuratively speaking, of course—because you knew that your mother would never have allowed you to speak so much in such a way. As a matter of fact, you were sure that she would shut in that vein down immediately.

In any case, Lady Bloodfallen’s proclivity for the color was common knowledge amongst the nobility and, when most nobles attended a Bloodfallen ball, they made sure to dress appropriately, so the room was filled with a sea of red and white. Sometimes, some would try to wear different colors to stand out, but they never clashed too much with the theme. 

You always marveled at just how enormous the Bloodfallen ballroom was. You were sure that they had even more money than your family, but it was terribly impolite to ask. 

Falling into the steady pace of the nobles all around you, you made your way around the room in search of your best friend. Your mother had not allowed you to visit her in the time before the ball, citing the _ disgusting _language that you had no doubt picked up from her. Iit had been difficult to stay away from Shalltear for yet another week since you had already taken so long with the apology already. However, as far as your mother could have taken the punishment, she had ultimately been restrained. She had not banned you from the ball despite knowing that you would likely see Shalltear during it, and she did not tell Alexandra to keep you away from her tonight, either. At least, she did not do so in front of you, and you were fairly certain that it meant that she hadn’t at all. When your mother banned you from something, she always made sure to tell you to your face or tell Alexandra in front of your face, depending on how infantilizing she wanted to be during that particular day. 

You glanced over at your shoulder to Alexandra, who was following closely behind. Tonight, she was wearing a dress of the deepest, darkest red. It was the only color you ever saw on her, other than her usual black, and she only wore it for such an occasion. Tonight was one of the few nights where she would stand out more in black than she would in red. 

As you made your round of the entire ballroom, you passed by the wall of mirrors. The nobility loved looking at themselves, and whichever Bloodfallen decorated this ballroom knew that this fact would never change. The mirrors were old, but they were carefully maintained and polished. You could clearly see yourself and the dress you had worn tonight. Just as the rest of your dresses, this one was custommade, but it was also made with the intention of being worn to a Bloodfallen ball. And, just like the decorations of the ball, this dress was primarily a crisp white with blood red decorations. The bodice had a low neckline, revealing the flat plane of your chest but stopping short of your breasts, so there was no cleavage. However, your collarbones were on complete display tonight with the off-the-shoulder cut of the gown. The bodice itself was outlined with red fabric along the neckline, sleeves, and bottom. It also had stripes of red about the width of your pinkie finger all around. While the skirt was more modest, the hem was trimmed with red swirls and waves. The neckline was specifically off-the-shoulder to make sure that the dress didn’t impede upon the majesty of your jewelry, which was truly the centerpiece of your outfit.

Your mother had seen fit to allow you to wear the new jewels you had received: the earring, necklace, and bracelet set that looked as if they were aflame. Even though the majority of the nobility had been utterly ignoring you despite the knowledge that the king was in the midst of courting you, they could not keep their eyes off you tonight.

Perhaps, another night, you would have had trouble maintaining a bland—rather than smug—expression, but you were growing exceedingly worried about finding Shalltear at all tonight. 

Where was she?

As a matter of fact, where was the king?

You had not seen him yet, and he had promised you a dance a week back. Had something happened?

“For the talk of the ball, you’re looking awfully glum,” said a smooth voice off to your right.

Startling, you looked in the direction of the voice’s owner, only to see Lady Albedo. “Good evening, Lady Albedo,” you said, completely ignoring her statement. Considering that she had been utterly horrible to you at the last ball, you did not want to dignify her jab with a response.

“For Shalltear’s best friend, you’re always so dull,” she continued. She sounded bored. You looked at her once more. For whatever reason, she was utterly alone.

“Where are your friends?” you asked politely.

She huffed. “They had all been invited to dance.”

You observed her from the corner of your eye. Tonight, she was wearing a white gown with gold accents and plenty of ruffles paired with deceptively simple gold jewelry. You had almost missed the sheer size of the necklace—one in the shape of a spiderweb that was draped all the way down and around her bodice—because it blended in so well with the golden accents of her dress. In fact, it looked like it clipped with the dress itself in some places to help support the weight. You recognized the metalwork of the necklace. It had been custom ordered from the best jeweler in the Re-estize Kingdom, and it must have come with quite the custom price tag. 

Statuesque, with porcelain skin, jet black hair, and absurd curves, Lady Albedo was easily the most beautiful woman at the ball. And her dress and unique jewelry only served to remind you of that fact. Everything was simple. A reminder that she did not need ostentation to stand out.

She truly looked like a goddess, while you, with your pretty stones and ornate dress, only looked like a pretender beside her. You felt dread at the sight.

“I don’t mind,” she continued, still clearly very angry despite the expression of false calm on her face. “It happens all the time.”

Despite her beauty—or perhaps as a result of it—many suitors did not approach her for dances during balls. And only recently, following your drop from favor, did they start approaching her at all. Only the truly foolhardy had tried to impress Albedo, but they found that she was not easily impressed. She had always been generally regarded as a bulwark when it came to the matter of courtship, before Lord Gown had appeared in society and ensnared her heretofore considered missing heart. Still, many men thought that they had a chance since Lord Gown appeared completely uninterested in the matter of marrying—much to Shalltear’s chagrin—anyone. Emboldened by the knowledge that Albedo can feel love, all of your former suitors promptly found their way at her door. Or, at least, that was how Shalltear told it.

But maybe they just started flocking to Albedo because she was so much more beautiful and elegant—_royal—_than you. And now that you were no longer royalty, she was the precious stone, and you were just a polished piece of metal. She didn’t even need the designation to be worthy of the thing that you had always tried so hard to be. Seeing her made you feel sick because it reminded you of the heights that you could never hope to reach.

You felt no obligation to comfort your best friend’s rival. As such, you only made a non-committal hum and continued to look around for either Shalltear or the king.

“Are you going to cause a stir again by dancing with the king?” Albedo asked. She sounded annoyed that you weren’t responding.

“Who knows?” you said.

Albedo snorted—even her snorts sounded ladylike and delicate. “That sounds like a yes.”

You couldn’t help the small quirk of your lips.

“How strange. You can smile.”

You said nothing.

“Rumors have been going around that you lost the ability to after you and your bitch mother stopped being royalty.”

Immediately, you grit your teeth.

“Must hurt, being _ just _ a noble like the rest of us.”

You turned in the opposite direction of Albedo to walk away.

“But I suppose it’s only a matter of time until you’re the queen. I don’t know how your mother weaseled you into the king’s attention, but she clearly did. You don’t exactly stand out, no matter how many pretty things you wear. Maybe I should try to steal a dance. Show you how it’s done.” She laughed at your retreating back.

As you walked away, you were shaking. You were mortified. How many people had heard her? Every laugh you heard was immediately at your expense despite the fact that the news could not have possibly spread so quickly. But you supposed that that verbal lashing was what you got for tolerating her presence for even a little instead of looking for Shalltear. 

Even though she was the darling of the nobility, Albedo was still a bitch. And she had hated you ever since you chose Shalltear over her back when you were all young.

You walked all the way to the opposite side of the ballroom to the couches—you needed to stay far, far away from Albedo—and took a seat. Alexandra wordlessly sat down beside you on the next couch. She was close in proximity but not familiar. There was no doubt in your mind that she had heard the entire exchange and would promptly report it to your mother upon your return to the estate. Fortunately, you had done nothing wrong. Your mother always told you not to listen to the impotent barking of envy—even if you could not in any way believe that Albedo was jealous of you.

Instead of looking around, you instead focused on the plush, blood red couch and pressed your hand against the velvet fabric on the cushions. You refused to dissolve into tears at _ another _ ball.

Alexandra said nothing about what had just happened, as always, but you found her silence comforting for once. Its normalcy helped you forget about what Albedo had said. Seated at this couch was how you found Shalltear, walking arm-in-arm with her mother. They were both wearing blood red gowns, made to match, but with Lady Bloodfallen's featuring alterations that made space for her rather significant belly.

"(Name)!" the small woman cried happily. She headed in the direction of the couch on which you were sitting, and you were not truly sure if her motivation was checking up on you or sitting down. Either way, you were glad to see her waddle over, dragging Shalltear along. But the latter would not make eye contact with you, and the fear that she would not forgive you this time resurfaced in full force.

"Good evening, Lady Bloodfallen," you said politely and stood to greet her. She wrapped her arms around you as much as she could from the side. Every time you saw her, she showered you with affection. It was always so straightforward and warm. The woman was sunshine personified. 

"I'm so happy to see you!" she said. Holding you at arm's length, she got a better look at your dress and jewelry. "You really are a sight tonight! So beautiful and elegant, as always. And those jewels! Oh! You look like a dream!" She lavished you with praise. "Don't you think so, Shalltear?"

"Of course," your best friend agreed blandly. "She's always spectacular."

Lady Bloodfallen's cheerful expression fell momentarily before she plastered another grin on her cherubic face. She knew. Of course Shalltear would tell her mother about the fight. Your best friend did not meet your eyes.

"Thank you," you said, grateful for her kind words even if Albedo's criticisms still rung in your mind. "Truly."

Turning to the couch, Lady Bloodfallen said, "Can we please sit down? My ankles have been killing me all night."

"Of course!" you said and helped her sink down onto the cushions, promptly sitting down beside her.

She heaved a relieved sigh and then looked to her daughter. Without saying anything, she patted the seat beside her, and Shalltear took the hint. She sat down on the other side of her mother and, any time you turned to look at Lady Bloodfallen, you could see Shalltear sitting uncomfortably beside her.

"How are you enjoying the ball, dear?" Lady Bloodfallen asked.

"It's lovely as always," you responded. "The outfits this year did not disappoint."

"I know!" She sounded terribly pleased with herself. "Everyone wore red and white, or either, this year. The best outfits happen within a theme. I'm a firm believer." She nodded, pleased with herself.

You laughed. "I think you might convert me."

Lady Bloodfallen gave you a wide grin, and you could see where Shalltear got most of her personality. "Perhaps you will throw themed royal balls!"

"Oh." You could feel your cheeks grow warm at the suggestion.

"Oh?" Lady Bloodfallen parroted. Her tone grew teasing as her voice lowered in volume. "Perhaps you will have themed balls, or perhaps you will marry the king?"

You said nothing, but the warmth in your cheeks grew worse. 

Lady Bloodfallen laughed at your bashful manner. "Jacob shares secrets with me, you see. And last he mentioned matters regarding you,"—her voice dropped so low that you had to lean in close to hear—"the King inquired after your finger size from your mother." On the other side of the couch, Shalltear was also leaning in close to hear the secret that her mother was so generously sharing with you.

“But it has only been just over a month since they met!” Shalltear protested. This statement was the most engaged she had been since Lady Bloodfallen had dragged her over to you.

Lady Bloodfallen smirked at her daughter. “The advisors have been telling the king that he needs to marry since he took the throne. He has waited long enough. I’m not completely surprised that he’s preparing for an engagement already.” She turned to you. “How do you feel about the news?” she asked. You could see that she could barely contain her excitement. If it weren’t for the unwieldiness of her pregnant belly, then she might have even started bouncing in place. You had seen her do so before. 

You could feel Shalltear staring at you. Again, your cheeks grew warm. “I. I don’t know what to say,” you said. The courtship had been going well, and the king was so kind.

Grinning, Lady Bloodfallen grasped your hands. Her hands were so soft and gentle. “I’m so happy for you! Truly! You deserve some happiness!”

Before you could disgest her statement—and the implication that you were not happy now—Lady Bloodfallen gasped and called to her best friend. 

“Charlotte!” she cried with excitement. The excessively polite and mousy Lady Charlotte Beauregard came over to the couch to Lady Bloodfallen. She greeted both you and Shalltear before Lady Bloodfallen demanded that her friend help her up from the couch and to the refreshment table. The two women walked away, chatting about the latest court gossip. With interest, you watched as Lady Beauregard shed her polite mask and avidly informed Lady Bloodfallen about the juiciest tidbits floating about court.

Once the women were gone, you glanced to your right, noticing that Shalltear was still sitting there despite her earlier lack of desire to acknowledge you.

Neither of you spoke. You could feel the seconds ticking away.

“I think she did that on purpose. Don’t you?” Shalltear was the first to break. After all, you were used to sitting, or even standing, still and in silence. 

“I can’t say that the thought didn’t cross my mind,” you admitted. 

Nodding, Shalltear said nothing in response.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

Shalltear widened her eyes in shock.

“I was being a brat and got angry at you for pointing it out,” you continued.

Shalltear’s jaw grew slack, and she raised a hand to cover her now-open mouth.

“You were right. Completely right. The king is a good man. Too good for me.”

For a moment, Shalltear just quietly processed your words. But the shocked expression slipped from her face to be replaced with something else. It wasn't entirely smug, but it wasn't entirely innocent, either. Sliding to sit closer to you, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders. “I’m glad to see that you’re finally seeing reason,” she said. “But I don’t want you to think that way.”

“What way?” you asked.

“That he’s too good for you. It’s the opposite of the problem you had before. Not good enough. Now, too good. With that way of thinking, life is a constant competition that only you know about.”

You looked at Shalltear’s face. She looked concerned. “I suppose I can see what you mean.”

“Just think on it, okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” you agreed.

“Good!” Shalltear grinned. “And I’m sorry, too.”

“Why? I was the ass.”

Smirking, she nodded. “Certainly. But I lost my temper with you when I shouldn’t have.”

You wrapped your arms around Shalltear’s waist. The sheer tininess of her body never failed to surprise you. “I’ll accept even though you really didn’t need to apologize.”

“I suppose that I’m just a saint, apologizing when I don’t have to.”

Laughing, she settled more comfortably on the couch and dropped her arms from around you. You followed suit.

"Have you seen Lord Gown?" she asked.

"I can't say I have, but I was also just looking for you." You turned to look at Shalltear’s minor pout. "Sorry," you added.

"It's fine. It's fine," she said with the wave of her hand. The two of you watched the guests mingle, joking and then laughing heartily. Every so often, you saw a gaze or two casually slide over to the sight of the two of you on the couch. Everything was right in the world: Shalltear had forgiven you, and you were the center of attention once again. You tried not to think too much about what Albedo had said to you. She was just jealous that everyone was talking about you instead of her. Obviously.

After an inordinate—for Shalltear, anyway—amount of time in silence, your best friend turned to you and regarded you from the side, her head cocked.

"Yes?" you asked.

"Were you truly happy to hear that the king means to propose to you? Because, as far as I could tell, you weren't lying."

"I wasn't."

"So. You are happy?"

"Yes. I think so."

Shalltear frowned. "How much happened while we weren't speaking?"

You patted Shalltear’s hand, which was laying in her lap. "I would say there were some pretty significant developments since we last spoke, yes."

"Like what?"

Immediately, you remembered your offhand comment about the king's hands. You flushed.

"Oh, I think that I'm going to enjoy whatever it is that you have to say.” Shalltear propped her elbow on her leg and cupped her chin with her hand. “Tell me a story, (Name), dear.”

“Well, there isn’t much to tell. I met with the king a several days after we had our fight. And he noticed that I wasn’t feeling well, so he listened to my story and gave me some advice. He’s a very good listener. I felt so horrible about going on about it, but he didn’t stop me or try to hurry me along.”

“Wait,” Shalltear interrupted, her eyes wide. “You told him about our argument?”

“I didn’t tell him what it was about,” you said, feeling a bit of panic at her insinuation.

“And he didn’t think to ask?”

“I could tell he was curious, but he was too polite to ask.”

Shalltear visibly relaxed. “Oh, okay. That’s good. There’s no need to upset him.”

You froze. “Do you think that it would?”

“Of course it would! (Name)! He does have feelings!”

“I know that!” You considered how it would feel if Gazef told you that he had immediately disliked you because of something that you could not change. “But I never thought about it before.”

Sitting up straight, Shalltear looked into your eyes. “(Name), you have to promise me that you won’t tell him. It’s not necessary, and it will only cause problems.”

She was being so serious that you could only say “I understand” in response.

“No, no. Promise me.”

“But what if—”

“No. (Name)! Promise!”

You nodded. “Okay. I promise.”

“Good. Now. I thought that I was going to hear something funny.”

“I’m getting to it.”

“Get to it faster!” Shalltear scolded.

Huffing out a breath, you narrowed your eyes at her. “As you might have guessed, I did not actually take his advice and speak to you.”

Nodding, Shalltear said, “I know.” She patted your hand this time. “You are difficult. But it’s okay. I know that, and I still love you!”

You rolled your eyes at her over-the-top comment but continued. “Then, we had another date.”

“Yes, yes?”

“Where I bought him a book.”

“Aw, how sweet!” Shalltear cooed at you. 

“And he was being very careful with the book, so I informed him that he didn’t have to be.” You could feel embarrassment resurging as you approached the part where you made the joke. “We teased each other a little.”

Shalltear raised her eyebrows at the information that you _ teased _ the king, but she remained blissfully silent. 

“But I did warn him to not be _ too _ rough with the book. And he continued on that train of thought, asking something about whether I think that he cannot turn a page without putting force into it.” This part of the conversation particularly stuck out in your mind, even if the other details escaped you. Heat blossomed on your cheeks. “And he had mentioned before that he spar for hours. So I invoked that statement and then suggested that, this matter being the case, perhaps his hands are in need of reeducating.”

Shalltear’s eyes grew comically wide as her lips spread into a lecherous smirk. “Oh, (Name)! You absolute beast!” Throwing her head back, she howled with laughter. You panicked and grabbed her hands.

“Please, Shalltear. Stop! Please!” You shook her hands, but the movement did nothing to calm your best friend down. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. Still panicking, you scanned the surrounding guests who were looking inquisitively at Shalltear. Of course, you didn’t think that Shalltear would tell anyone, but the mere fact that they were staring at the two of you was enough to set your poor cheeks aflame.

And it was exactly Shalltear’s laughter that brought the king over.

“Lady Shalltear! Lady (Name)!” Gazef said.

Your embarrassment only grew worse. Though you weren’t worried that Shalltear would tell anyone else, she might tease the king about what you said.

“Your majesty!” you exclaimed. Shooting up from your place, you fell into a deep curtsy to hide your blushing face more than anything else. Shalltear was not so quick to stand, and her curtsy was marred by the shaking of her sides as she was still laughing.

“What’s so funny?” he asked you with an amused smile. He looked terribly handsome tonight in his red suit, but you didn’t have the time to appreciate his silhouette because you were too busy trying not to make eye contact with him. 

Smirking, Shalltear stepped closer to the two of you and whispered, “(Name) is such a funny girl. Don’t you agree, your majesty?”

You widened your eyes in panic. Though you wanted to grab her and lead her away from the king before she said anything else, you stayed frozen in place.

Gazef furrowed his brows just a little and tilted his head. You could feel his eyes as they moved from Shalltear over to you, and your only response was to give him a small, uncomfortable smile. 

Thankfully, Shalltear said nothing further, but she continued to chuckle at your discomfort.

Since Shalltear was not going to say anything further on the matter, Gazef turned to you and asked, “Would you like to dance?”

At the question, Shalltear stopped laughing and stared at you with curiosity in her red eyes.

“Of course,” you said. 

Gazef grinned at you. “Then shall we?”

“We shall.”

The two of you, with Shalltear and Alexandra following closely behind, made your way towards the musicians and the nobles in the middle of a dance. Standing in the circle around them, you started to get nervous at the thought of dancing with the king in front of everyone. You wouldn’t be able to make even a single mistake. The others would be watching you closely—you were sure of that. 

The song ended sooner than you would have hoped, and Gazef turned to you with a smile. “Shall we, Lady (Name)?”

You longed to hear him say your name without the designation of rank before it, but that would have been too familiar in front of this group. 

“Of course, your majesty,” you said with a bow of your head.

The next song started up as everyone lined up on the dance floor. All around you, the nobles clapped, excited to see the king participating in a dance since he was usually not one for them. You wondered if they disdained the fact that he was only dancing because of you, but no one seemed to even be looking in your direction. Instead of thinking about the others, you focused on your partner in front of you. 

At the same time, everyone stepped forward, raising their hands to clasp their partners’ and spin around so that they were on the side opposite from the one on which they had started. Rotating on your heel, you faced Gazef once again. The girl beside you grasped your hand and the hand of the one beside her. Across from you, Gazef was holding the hand of the man to the left of him. Both lines moved forward, and you let go of the girl at the same time that Gazef let go of the man. His hands landed on your waist and yours on his elbows. He was so close to you. It wasn’t until this moment, with his hands on your body, that you remembered just how much you wanted him to touch you ever since the visit to the castle. Grinning, he made eye contact with you, and you smiled back at him. His grin somehow grew wider at the sight. Well, you supposed that you had absolutely refused to look at him the last time you danced. 

The two of you spun in place, in time with the other couples, and then broke again. This time, you switched sides with the girl beside you, and you were standing between two people. Gazef was still on the edge of his line. When you stepped forward again with the beat of the music, you and Gazef had switched partners with the two beside you.

You glanced over in their direction just in time to see the girl’s lips move. You recognized her smirk. Before, you had not gotten a good look at her, but you now realized that she was Lady Genevieve, one of your former sycophants. And you most certainly recognized the way she was acting when she looked terribly pleased with herself to be saying whatever it was she was saying. It was likely nothing good. As a matter of fact, you did not miss the dread that raced down your spine. You looked back to your partner. Though you had been trained in the art of dancing from a young age, you could never count on your partner to not step on your toes. 

When you could spare a glance over at Gazef and Genevieve again, you saw that he was smiling politely at her. You were relieved that he did not look at her the way he looked at you. But you did not have time to dissect the source of that relief because of the amount of attention that the dance demanded from you. 

However, you did feel better when you saw that Genevieve was no longer trying to say anything.

When the dance was over, you longed to ask him what Genevieve had said, but you refrained from being nosy. Shalltear had wandered away before you and Gazef had the chance to return to where she and Alexandra had been standing, but she gave you a wide grin before she left. Clearly, she approved.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Lady (Name)?” he asked as the two of you wandered away from the dance floor. Both of you had your fill of dancing for now and were headed in the direction of the refreshments. 

You nodded. “I did. Did you?”

“I did. I was pleased that you looked happier this time than the last.”

You winced, already feeling horribly guilty. “Of course,” you said airily. “I was so nervous since it was my first time dancing in front of the court in months!” While you spoke, you could not even bear to look at him. How many lies had you spoken to keep your secret?

“Then I’m happy you were more comfortable this time.”

You nodded. “You are a very good dancer,” you said, instead, hoping to change the subject.

“I had to be,” he said with a small sigh. “My advisors were adamant.” 

“Do you dislike dancing?”

He shrugged. “It’s not that I dislike it. I simply don’t like it.”

“Oh. Then we do not have to.”

“I do not mind when it is with you, Lady (Name).”

His words were always so sweet. A small smile curled the corner of your mouth. “That’s good.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so late with this update! I'm sorry! I meant to finish this chapter earlier, but I have a habit of writing my chapters out of order, and I got caught up with writing the wedding night. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
So that's done, but a bunch of the stuff between now and then isn't. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ What can you do?  
Anyway, this chapter is way shorter than the last one, but I also don't have that much to talk about. Enjoy!

You loved days like these, slow and relaxed, with no unnecessary scurrying to prepare for something. You didn’t have to go running off to some unknown destination on the whims of your mother or do something that she didn’t trust the servants to do properly while Alexandra was otherwise occupied. Naturally, you were only ever a second choice. 

Of course, the company mattered when it came to the full enjoyment of such a day, and Shalltear was always the perfect company—even if your mind did occasionally stray to a certain king. The two of you were seated in a cafe with Alexandra at the other side of the table.

"My father is such an oaf," Shalltear complained.

"What did he do now?" you inquired.

"What didn’t he do?" Shalltear answered your question with one of her own. A scowl curled the upper left corner of her lip, and she slumped forward, placing her elbow on the table and cradling her chin in the upraised hand. Immediately, Alexandra looked at the unlady-like way that Shalltear was sitting and then directed her blank gaze at you as if in warning not to mimic her behavior. You felt irritation at her presumptiveness.

"There has been some gossip that the current Emperor of the Baharuth Empire has fallen ill, as well as general panic about what that could mean for the Re-estize Kingdom once Prince Jircniv takes over since he has shown a marked dislike for the nobility of the Baharuth. And Elizabeth did not understand why this news might be problematic for us, so I was telling her about the implications of Prince Jircniv’s preferences. And father _ dear _ interrupted me to tell me that, while I am a lost cause, Elizabeth is still a proper lady and, thus, should not be exposed to topics such as politics." She made a face. "That _ fool _ thinks that he can tell me what to do?" Shalltear made a noise of disgust. "And Elizabeth was the one who _ asked_. If she is interested in politics, then why should I not explain something that I understand?"

You felt some shame since you had little to know understanding of the topic yourself, but you did not bring it up.

A waiter approached with your cups, a piping hot pot of tea, and cakes. You could already smell the bergamot and black tea, as well as the lemon cakes that Shalltear had simply insisted you try.

She gave the waiter a brilliant smile and said, "Thank you!"

While you loved Shalltear, you never understood that proclivity of hers, being polite towards someone who, firstly, did not have the standing to warrant such behavior from a noblewoman and, secondly, had to serve you. You did not bother acknowledging him.

The waiter poured the tea for the three of you and then left to attend to another table.

As if no one had interrupted her, Shalltear went back to her complaints. "Besides, that oaf constantly tells mother about political matters, yet he wants to keep us oblivious? Whatever for? Some idiotic notion that women should be good little housewives instead of paying attention to what’s happening all around us? Of course, that idiotic notion can be broken at him idiotic whims simply because he wants someone to listen to him talk. No one else bothers to do so." Shalltear scoffed and picked up her teacup to take a sip of the scalding tea. 

"Wait. The emperor is sick?" you asked.

"Yes," Shalltear said.

"Poor Jircniv," you muttered.

"Poor us if he does not decide to continue the policies that his father established in regards to the Re-estize," Shalltear muttered under her breath.

You thought about your friend from childhood. When was the last time that you had reached out to him? The older the two of you got, the busier he had become, and he didn’t write to you as much as he once had. But if his father was sick, then you certainly had to send him a letter, at least, to catch up or ask him how he is feeling with regards to the news.

"Anyway, enough about all that. I actually had something that I wanted to ask you," Shalltear said, tearing you from your thoughts. 

"Yes?" You looked at her.

"Did Albedo"—she paused, uncomfortable—"say something to you? At the ball."

For just one moment, you froze at the mention of Albedo and the ball but recovered fairly quickly. You looked at Alexandra, who did not appear to have even been paying attention to your conversation. She just drank her tea.

"(Name)?" Shalltear asked.

"Ah. Maybe? I wasn't really listening to her." Squeezing your lips into a smile, you directed your attention to the slice of lemon cake before you. You broke the sponge with a fork and brought the piece to your mouth. "This cake is really quite good," you said after chewing it and taking another sip of the tea to wash the residual sugar from your mouth. The tea was perfectly hot.

The entire time you were focusing on your snack, Shalltear said nothing.

"(Name)," she said again. She looked concerned. "Please tell me what she said."

You turned your face to fully look at Shalltear. "Tell me what you heard." She had to have heard something if she was bringing up the matter.

"Just that some people saw you walking away from her as she said that your mother arranged your courtship with the king. And then she said something about dancing with the king herself. Mother heard from Charlotte."

Ah, so that was what they were discussing when they walked away or, perhaps, later when they were away. Albedo had been rather loud.

"You forgot the part where she said that I 'don't stand out, no matter how many pretty things [I] wear,'" you added.

Shalltear frowned.

Since you were no longer pretending not to know what she was talking about, you decided to start from the beginning. You sighed. "I was looking for you to apologize. And I found Albedo instead. Rather, she found me while I wasn't looking. She was all alone." You sighed again. "Didn't she look beautiful?" you added bitterly.

"Whatever do you mean?" Shalltear gave you her best shit-eating grin. "She always looks like a back-stabbing bitch to me."

You laughed at the insult though you knew that Alexandra would not approve and would bring this exchange back as yet another example of Shalltear's negative influence on you. However, your mother already knew that Shalltear was a negative influence, and she had long since stopped truly trying to get you to end your friendship with her.

"So what happened next?" she asked once you made no indication of continuing with your story.

Shrugging, you just said, "She tried to engage me in conversation regarding how gloomy I looked despite being the center of attention. And I politely bid her a good evening, absolutely not intending to speak to her in any way. But she insisted on continuing and then called me boring despite my acquaintance with you because I did not rise to her provocation. The conversation proceeded in such an asinine manner until she asked me if I intended to cause another scene by dancing with the king. I said nothing, but I did smile, which was a mistake because she then made fun of me and mother by saying that she heard I lost the ability to smile after I lost my status of nobility." You had to stop speaking in order to take a deep breath. In your desire to get the story over with as soon as possible, you had been forcing the words out of your mouth at a quick pace that both made you slightly light-headed and dried out your tongue. Raising your tea cup, you took a long drink from the tea. The liquid was warm, and it immediately soothed your mouth. "And then she said all those other things as I walked away. I didn't respond to her. I didn't want to respond or acknowledge what she said."

Shalltear clenched her small hands into fists. "She's horrendous. And I wish you had told me all this last night when I still could have thrown her out of my home!" 

Your blank expression melted into a small smile. "No. There was no need for a reaction like that. It would only make the other nobles hate me even more. They love her, and I'm sure many agree or think that mother did do something to attract the king's attention to me."

The anger in Shalltear's eyes left. She cocked her head to the side. "Do you really think that she did something like that?"

You took a moment to consider your next statement, especially with Alexandra sitting across from you. "While I would not put it past her to orchestrate something like that, I simply do not see how my mother could have arranged anything with the king," you said.

Nodding, Shalltear responded, "I suppose that is true."

But the memory of seeing the letter from Lord Bloodfallen on your mother's desk came to mind. You paused. Taking another drink of your tea, you considered the implications of the letter. Would it even be safe to assume that the correspondence meant anything? The two of them hated each other so much—your mother somehow held even more animosity for Shalltear's father than Shalltear—that you could see no reason for him to send her a letter unless it was official business of the crown. There was absolutely no personal relationship between your household and the Bloodfallen's, officially. As petty as it was, your mother refused to acknowledge that Shalltear was a Bloodfallen and, while you often spent time at the Bloodfallen estate, Shalltear had never visited you at home. And when you would visit the Bloodfallen estate, Alexandra only accompanied you as far as the trip in the carriage, but she never followed you inside.

It was a strange arrangement, but the two of you were fine with it so long as you could see each other.

However, Lady Bloodfallen did say that the king had inquired after the size of your ring finger, and perhaps he saw fit to include Lord Bloodfallen in this endeavor. He would not be able to say no to the king even if they appeared to be friends or, perhaps, he would not want to say no for that reason. For the most part, it seemed that Lord Bloodfallen hated your mother because she hated him. A couple of years ago, you tried to ask her about this hatred, but she just began scolding you for asking about matters that did not pertain to you. 

The letter was likely only about the proposal that the king seemed ready to offer.

The thought of being engaged to him made the butterflies appear in your stomach. You felt some nerves at the thought of being married, but the idea no longer repulsed you. Gazef was so kind that you knew you would be happy even if you didn't love him. Perhaps you would fall in love with him given enough time. And he was certainly very handsome. 

You thought of him at the ball, the way he smiled at you—and only you. His hands on yours or on your waist. Never before had the sheer proximity of a suitor made your heart race in such a way. As if it were summoned with the memory, your heart rate picked up, and your cheeks started growing warm.

"What are you thinking about?" Shalltear asked with a teasing smile. The left hand corner of her mouth curled up, resulting in an expression that was more of a smirk.

"Nothing," you protested.

"Oh, blushing like that, and you're not thinking about anything? What a horrendous lie!" Shalltear laughed. She bumped your shoulder with hers. "Are you thinking about the king?" she whispered.

The heat in your cheeks seemed to burst into flames. "No!" you exclaimed.

Shalltear started laughing earnestly. "(Name)! You're such a liar!"

Though you were embarrassed, you didn't hate the feeling this time.

"I'm happy for you!" she said.

Your blushing cheeks did not get any better, but you felt the warmth spread to the rest of your body. Yes, today really was a good day.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Hasn't even been a week yet!  
I'll have the next chapter up soon! I'm already done with it!

Because today was unseasonably hot despite it being only late June, you and Gazef decided to stay at your family's estate instead of going out for a walk as you had planned. Granted, it was not much better inside but, at least, the sun was not beating down on you. Of course, the heat wasn't all bad, not when it was the reason why Gazef had removed the light jacket he was wearing shortly after arriving at your home. You didn't mind—not at all. The sight of him in only a white button down, fitted nicely to his broad torso, chest, and arms, was terribly distracting, but you were definitely no longer thinking about the temperature. 

Shortly after he arrived, you decided to drag Gazef—as much as you could without actually touching him—to the piano room.

"Do I not get to know where we are going?" he had asked you. Some mild amusement lingered in his eyes. Though it was childish not to tell him where you were taking him, you wanted your intentions to be a surprise. You were excited, or perhaps nervous, at the thought of showing him your ability to play the piano. As far as you knew, he was not aware of your talent, and you wanted him to know that you possessed it.

"No!" You laughed at his expression. "It's a surprise!" you scolded mildly. "So stop asking."

He raised his hands as if in surrender. "Of course, my lady."

Realizing that he was teasing you, you shot back with "I meant that with the utmost respect, your majesty." You bowed your head, acting the supplicant, and he narrowed his eyes at your sudden formality. If he insisted on reverting to titles, then you would respond in kind. 

"Come now. Bring me to this surprise." He was trying to distract from this situation now that you had called his bluff. As you had learned, Gazef was uncomfortable with his status, and he preferred a complete lack of formality.

"As you wish, your majesty." You performed a deep curtsy before him, which only earned you a disgruntled rumble. Smirking, you stood up and started off in the direction of the piano room. 

"I was glad to see that you were getting along with Shalltear again during the ball," Gazef said as the two of you walked.

You grinned. "We were! I apologized, just as you suggested."

He grinned in response. "I'm glad to hear it!" 

Looking over at Gazef, you realized how happy you were to have the opportunity to share one of your favorite hobbies with him. Unfortunately, Gazef would not be the only person in the room with you as you played given his constant entourage of guards and presence of your chaperone, but you were used to crowds when you played. When your uncle had still been alive, and you were still allowed to visit the castle, you would often perform for your family members. Renner had always lavished you with praise after every song and pet your head. 

But those days were gone, and it had been a while since you played for anyone.

"Both of you looked happier that night than you had been for some weeks," he observed.

"Perhaps," you said almost to yourself.

"But I was a little perplexed at Shalltear's response to seeing me after, I assume, the two of you spoke."

"Ah," you said. You had hoped that he wouldn't bring up that particular matter. Shalltear was going to really get you in trouble one of these days! "I'm not sure what she found so funny. We were simply catching up with the events that occurred while we weren't speaking." That sentence was a complete and utter lie and, though you felt bad, you really did not want to remind him of your humiliation. 

Thankfully, you did not have to tell him anything. The two of you had arrived at your destination. You threw open the doors, revealing the grand piano sitting within. The room itself was very sparsely decorated otherwise, the only furniture in the room being benches against the walls and the bookcases full of sheet music against the wall behind you. While the benches allowed others to linger and listen, the furniture did not truly invite anyone to remain. The other piano in the second drawing room was meant for the entertaining of guests. This piano was for practice. It was also considerably more expensive than the first since the former was only a baby grand.

The wind lazily wafted into the room from the open windows, and it was warm in this room just like in all the others of the estate, but the thought of playing for Gazef broke you out of your earlier lethargy. 

Stepping into the room, you walked over to the piano and only turned to him when you were standing right in front of it. 

"Do you play?" he asked.

You nodded. "I do. I have been playing ever since I was a child." Smiling fondly at the thought, you remembered how you had listened to your father play for hours when you were just a little girl. "My father used to play when he was alive," you said.

At the mention of your father, Gazef looked somewhat surprised. You wondered why. Though you had never spoken about him before, there had also been no reason to bring him up before today. Your father had been dead for a very long time. You hardly remembered him, so there was really very little to discuss.

"He was very good," you said. "And I would listen to him play for hours during his good days." However, by the time you were born, he had not had very many left.

"Do you miss him?" Gazef asked.

"Sometimes," you said truthfully. "But he died when I was very young, so there is, unfortunately, not much to miss."

Pity filled Gazef's expression. You averted your eyes from his face.

"But enough about that," you said. "I wanted to play for you, not ruin your mood."

"I don't mind discussing whatever you want." He looked earnest. He always looked earnest. No matter what you said or how you said it, Gazef was always willing to listen. And he was patient with you even when you were being stubborn. It was more than you could say for others in your life, especially your mother. At the thought of your mother, you started to realize just how different the two of them were. Where she would lose her patience with you immediately, Gazef was willing to listen and even help. He had also inadvertently comforted you the first time he had given you flowers after your mother had upset you. You had almost forgotten the blue bouquet. It was still your favorite even though he had been constantly sending your flowers since that day—perhaps because you had discovered it already in your room immediately following the verbal lashing your mother had given you when you had dared to suggest that her friendship with Gazef was more than a friendship. And his note had warmed your heart. Every time you met, he was polite and nice. The guilt that you were growing accustomed to feeling resurfaced at the thought of your earliest meetings. 

You could hardly look at him before.

Shalltear's warning to never volunteer this information to Gazef floated through the back of your head.

"There's nothing to really talk about." You shrugged. You realized that you knew nothing about Gazef's family. "What about your family?" you inquired. Heading for the shelves, you started to look over the compositions you possessed, but you quickly realized that many of your favorites were very slow or sad pieces. 

"My parents are enjoying their newfound luxury," he said with a small laugh.

Glancing over your shoulder, you met Gazef's eyes. Both of you immediately looked away. Your heart started beating a little quicker though you weren't even really sure why. You were the one who caught him _ looking _at you. 

"Is that so?" 

You stopped your search for something to play. When did you have the time to collect all this sad music? Did you own a single piece of happier music that you actually enjoyed? You wanted to just ask Gazef if there was anything he wanted to hear. If you played something that you actually liked, then you would almost certainly receive another scolding about not acting like an appropriate match to the king. However, you didn't want to interrupt this line of conversation.

"Yes." Gazef paused. You could tell that he was uncomfortable. He was such an open book. "Some estates came into my possession when I was crowned."

Oh. You understood the source of his discomfort. They had been your uncle's until just recently.

"And I moved my parents into the closest one, Eastwood."

You nodded. "It's a beautiful place."

"It is. My parents were farmers, so my mother was eager to take over the greenhouse."

"Perhaps we could compare notes," you said. Looking over your shoulder again, you felt your lips curl into a small smile.

"I think I would like that idea," Gazef said. "My parents are visiting soon, so perhaps you can meet them, then," he added.

You blushed. "I think that it would be nice." The thought of meeting his parents made you anxious though you were not sure why. You thought instead about the other things he had said. It was a funny coincidence that his parents had been farmers. You paused. Something wasn't right about what Gazef said. After a moment, you realized something. "But you said that you didn't know anything about plants!" You turned to look at Gazef with furrowed brows.

He gave you a lop-sided, embarrassed grin and rubbed the back of his neck. The fabric of his shirt stretched tight over the muscles as they flexed, and you could practically see the bumps and grooves. You were so distracted by his arm that you had forgotten your protest by the time that Gazef reluctantly responded. 

"I was never very good at remembering the details that my mother tried to teach me. I was always better at the physical work," he admitted. "Besides, you discussed flowers, and my parents only grew produce." The way that he avoided your eyes was adorable. His entire body seemed to curl in on itself at your realization. Everything about the way that Gazef was acting was very cute and not at all fitting for such a large, dangerous man. It appeared that you had truly flustered him. Was it wrong for you to want to hug him close? Every part of you was screaming at your legs to go over to him and wrap your arms around him. The desire felt strange. You had never wanted physical contact more than when you were around him.

"The two are very different," you agreed, looking away from Gazef. For several moments, neither of you said anything, and you were reminded very quickly of Alexandra's presence. "Is there something in particular that you want to hear?" you asked, drawing the conversation away.

Gazef cocked his head and walked over to join you on the shelves. "I'm not sure that you would have any of the songs I'm familiar with." 

You could feel the confused expression on your face. He elaborated. 

"I'm only truly familiar with songs played in bars." He stopped and then looked embarrassed by what he said. He must have realized that he didn't sound terribly king-like.

You laughed to yourself. "What kind of songs?" you asked.

Gazef looked slightly less flustered when he realized that you weren't laughing at him. But the embarrassment returned once you asked your question. "Ah. Songs," he said vaguely. "With singing."

Cocking your head, you looked at him from the corner of your eye. You recognized his embarrassment from after your comment about his hands. Now that you were thinking about it, he initially seemed amused before masking that amusement by a cough for propriety's sake. Were the songs to which he referred bawdy in nature? Was Gazef secretly lewd under all of his proper and honorable behavior? 

"Of course. I can play some of my favorites for you but, unfortunately, they are all very slow or sad." You were offering him a way out of the conversation that he had gotten himself into with his honesty at the risk of a scolding. You hoped that he was grateful.

Once you spoke, Gazef looked relieved. He easily switched to your train of thought. "I would like that," he said.

"Are you sure?" you asked, looking behind him to see Alexandra seated by a bench beside the window. She appeared to be minding her business—she wasn't openly staring at the two of you, at the very least—but you knew that she was listening. "They're not very fun."

"I'm curious to know what kind of music you like," Gazef responded. He looked like he was serious.

Your stomach fluttered at the genuine interest in his eyes and his gentle expression. It had returned once he was no longer flustered. Though it was good for him that he was no longer embarrassed, you were now the one who was staring to feel awkward. Nodding, you grabbed your favorite composition. You didn't even need to search for it. With the papers in hand, you headed in the direction of the piano. You arranged the sheet music, open to the first page of the song you intended to play, and fixed your skirt before you sat down. Maintaining proper posture, you raised the fallboard. You felt—rather than saw—Gazef's presence behind you. He had not moved from the bookcase.

You looked over your shoulder at him. He had been staring at you again, and you felt the familiar rush of heat on your cheeks at the attention.

"Would you like to sit down?" you asked him.

"Ah," he said as if the thought had not occurred to him. "I should." Gazef did not move far, only the couple of steps to the bench that was situated beside the bookcases. He was still behind you but no longer as close. With him sitting behind you, you felt self-conscious about your posture. You straightened your back again, which only resulted in you stretching out your shoulders. You stared at the keyboard for a moment before pressing your fingers on the cool surface of the keys.

As you began to play, you focused less and less on the presence of the king. His existence was something you only registered in the back of your mind as you moved your hands along the keys. Of course, you had played this particular piece so many times that you had no trouble with it. A part of you was glad that Gazef had gone along with your offer to play your favorites. Though you were familiar with all of the works on the shelves, you had much more practice with the works you actually liked.

The melody was slow and sad, but it always tugged at your heart. It started off predominantly with lower notes before moving into the higher and then back again. The end was your favorite, especially as it started to slow down and trail off. You kept your fingers on the keys even once you were done. As always, you had forgotten your audience. It took Gazef clapping his hands to break you from your focus. 

You startled and then blushed, turning to face him. 

"What did you think?"

He stood up to walk over to the piano and you. "Beautiful!" he grinned.

The blush only grew warmer at the compliment. He looked like he meant it.

"I enjoyed it. Truly." Gazef looked at the keys in front of you. "I do not know much about the piano, but I think that you're very talented."

"Are you sure it wasn't too sad? I don't want to bore you," you said. Your mother often complained about your taste in music. She said it was too much like your father's.

Furrowing his brows, Gazef's smile fell. "Of course not. Why would you think that?"

You looked down, embarrassed. "Most people like faster songs. And you said that you're not very familiar with these compositions."

"That doesn't mean I can't enjoy listening to you play. I did like it. I promise."

You nodded. "Would you like to hear something else?" you asked him, not daring to look up.

"Of course." He smiled, warm and reassuring. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Short but sweet?  
Thank you all for your lovely comments, kudos, and bookmarks. <3

"(Name)," your mother said. "Do you know why I wanted to speak to you today?"

You looked at her blank expression; the usually tense way she sat behind her desk, arms folded in front of her; and the strangely empty surface. Though you wished that you had some idea as to the nature of her discontent—and surely it was discontent as she never called you to her office so early in the day because of a happy matter—you were utterly clueless. Everything she told you to do, you had done. You attended to every matter she sent you on dutifully. You were getting along well with the king. You had told her what you heard from Lady Bloodfallen at the ball about Gazef's inquiry about the ring. Though she did not appear entirely surprised, as you suspected, she seemed pleased about the progress.

"No," you said.

She hummed to herself. "I see."

Anxiety crashed over you in a wave. For just a moment, your shoulders drooped, but then you quickly righted yourself.

"I'd say that I'm disappointed, but disappointment is something to which I've grown accustomed in regards to your behavior." She sighed.

Staring at the wall behind your mother, you tried to ignore the stinging in your eyes. Her words were nothing new. They shouldn't hurt so much anymore. 

"Why do you keep insisting on embarrassing yourself, as well as me in the process?"

Your brows furrowed in response to the statement. "What do you mean?" you asked. What had you done to embarrass yourself? The last two and a half months you spent since the coup and the aftermath had been the most subdued in your life. You hardly existed in the public eye any more. The only people you truly spoke to were Shalltear and Gazef. Even though Shalltear offered to try to reintroduce you into society, you were too nervous about what other people were thinking of you to accept. They treated you so differently, and you knew it was because of your family's lack of standing. You realized that they had been thinking of you in such a way for a long time but, now, they were actually showing it. 

She sighed again. "Why do you insist on telling the king about your little arguments with Shalltear?"

Oh. You froze.

"You have so many with her. And this one in particular lasted for almost three weeks. You felt the need to regale him with the details on four separate occasions? The king is a very polite man, but I believe that you are taking advantage of his kindness by going on about such an asinine matter."

You didn't know what to say. Certainly, you and Shalltear both had a stubborn streak that would manifest in arguments, but you wouldn't say that there had been an overabundance. 

"Are you going to go on like this every time the two of you fight? You are simply begging to just get on his nerves with all of your pathetic simpering."

But Gazef willingly listened to you. He was the one who gave you advice and followed up on the matter of the argument. At no point did he suggest to you that you were bothering him with your complaints. He had been happy to help!

"Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself, or will you continue acting like a brainless fool, gawping at me?"

Averting your eyes from your mother, you felt hot shame. You knew that, no matter what you said, she would only grow angrier at you, but silence would get the same reaction. "The king willingly spoke to me about the matter. And he was the one who brought it up when I visited the castle."

Your mother looked at you with disgust. "Are you truly so unaware of others that you did not notice he was only doing it to be polite? Why would anyone want to consult such trifling matters? And every time you saw each other?"

"And then yesterday. Playing your sad songs for him and then begging for his validation."

You flinched at her comment. While you had been worried about your choice, you didn't think that it would result in such a response from your mother. 

"Why do you always insist on trying to scrape together as much pity from others as you can?"

Did she really think that you acted in such a way?

"Do you have any self-respect?"

You didn't know what to say.

"_Well _?"

"He said that he wanted to hear what I liked."

She scoffed. 

Perhaps she was right.

"He was only being polite," she stressed.

He was always nice to everyone, not just you. 

"But you took advantage of that politeness."

Trying as hard you did to convince yourself that he wanted to listen to you, you were starting to doubt every interaction you had with him over the last few days. Were you truly nothing more than a burden?

"If you were even just the smallest bit aware of others, then you would have seen as much."

She was right. You were always so selfish. The king was too nice, and you were forcing your personal matters on him when he did not have anything to do with them. Before, he told you about his exhaustion in the face of all the problems he had running the empire, and you were wasting his time and energy by complaining about yours. The king had much more important matters with which to concern himself instead of your trifles. Every date, he had comforted you in one matter or another, but how much longer would he humor you before he started to grow annoyed with you and decide that coddling you was a waste of his time? He was _ the king_, and you were wasting his time.

"And if you continue acting in such a way, then he is going to realize that you are not worthy of his time and find a woman who is. Someone who can actually be a queen and not just pretend to be worthy of royalty."

You were staring at the rug under your feet. It was old but well maintained. You could see the leaf and flower pattern in once dark, now faded red and greens on a beige background. Focusing on the pattern, you tried to ignore the mental image of the king with Albedo beside him. She would be a better queen. You knew that much even if you tried to ignore the feeling. Albedo was everything you were not. Though she was in love with Lord Gown, you were sure that she would marry the king regardless. The title and the prestige of being royalty far outweighed love for most people. After all, that reason was why you had entered a courtship with the king even though you had initially looked down on him for his background. You knew that the title was most important. The king would be bettered served with Albedo by his side, not you. 

All you knew how to do was play the piano and cry at the slightest provocation. 

"Do you not even have the spine to respond?" your mother asked. 

Chancing a look, you found that her blank expression was tinged with disgust. You looked back down at the carpet. No, you really didn't have the spine.

"Pathetic whelp."

Flinching, you closed your eyes to the insult.

"You are weak. Just as your father had been."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me! ;D


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yeah. I'm sorry. I was having a lot of trouble with this chapter--even though I wrote other things--and was just real shit about updating. But I'm back now. Maybe.  
Enjoy the angst! :D

Your mother's words echoed constantly in your mind for the entirety of the week since you spoke, but knowing that you were supposed to see the king in the afternoon of the coming day only made the memories and your own fears worse. For most of the night, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling of your room. Mostly, your fears were silent, but your heart still raced constantly. You could not relax and, because you could not relax, you could not sleep. Your insomnia was quite unfortunately timed. Sleep would have been a blissful escape from the reality that you would have to face come morning.

In an attempt to rest, you tried to stay as still as possible, but sleep didn't come, and you would flip over to the other side when the first began to ache.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep because you did not even notice Arabella's arrival in your room until she was shaking your shoulder.

You awoke reluctantly. Sleep had been blissfully dark and all-encompassing.

When you looked at the hand on your shoulder, she immediately pulled it back and said, "I apologize, my lady, but you were not waking."

Saying nothing, you sat up in your bed.

You felt hot—sticky and vile—even in the thin nightgown you were wearing and under the thin sheet that had barely covered you while you were sleeping. When was this strange heatwave going to end? Standing up from the bed, you wandered over the mirror that was perched on your vanity and observed your reflection. You looked just as bad as you felt, especially with the visible bags that had developed under your eyes from the events of this last week. You were supposed to see the king like this?

No. Absolutely not.

"Can you draw a bath?" you asked Arabella, not even bothering to look over your shoulder.

"Of course, my lady."

In the mirror, you saw her curtsy and then head for the door. As soon as she was gone, you practically fell into the bench in front of the vanity and leaned against the solid wood. You ran your hand along the back of your neck, the skin damp under your fingers. You fanned your hand in front of your face. The cool, brisk wind that resulted from the movement felt good against your face, but you were too fatigued from the combination of not sleeping enough and just waking to keep up the movement for long. You glared at the open windows in your room. There was no wind. The air was stale in addition to being unpleasant. 

In a last, desperate attempt to expedite the cooling of your person, you decided to lay your face on flat on the polished wood surface of your vanity. You looked in the direction of the door to make sure that Arabella was not going to oh-so-inconveniently decide to return now, and then lay the right side of your face down.

The temperature difference was blissful against your overheating face.

You could feel your body grow slack at you relaxed.

"My lady?" Arabella was standing behind you.

You jerked up. Thankfully, she was standing back from you, and you did not slam the back of your head into her. You must have fallen asleep in the mere moments that she was gone. 

"I apologize."

Now, you felt heat on your face that had nothing to do with the temperature in your bedroom.

"It's fine," you said despite the humiliation you were feeling. This morning was only getting worse with every moment, and you had just woken up. It didn't bode well for your later date. Perhaps, by that point in the day, you will have completely lost all control of your limbs, broken out into an uncontrollable rash, or forgotten how to speak. "Have you prepared the bath?" you asked.

Arabella responded, "Yes." 

*

The water was warm, edging into the territory of hot—just as you liked it. As you settled into it, you relaxed all the tenseness of your body, or you tried. Relaxing was difficult. After you dismissed Arabella, you set to work scrubbing away at your person. The soap Arabella had prepared was your favorite—lavender and honey—and you actually relaxed after basking in its scent for the length of time it took to get yourself clean. You settled back into the water once you were done even though you knew it was not the best idea to dawdle. Your mother would be expecting you for breakfast as she always did on the morning of important occasions. As it were, you had already spent too much time getting ready.

You could feel all of your limbs protesting as you forced yourself to get out of the water and pulled on the robe that Arabella left for you. For just a moment, you entertained the thought of asking your mother to cancel the visit with the king. A page could be sent with the message that you're not feeling well, and it wasn't even a lie. You weren't feeling well. However, your ailment was not one of the physical kind.

Thought entertained, you then immediately proceeded to ignore its existence. Your mother would never allow you to miss a chance to get into the king's good graces, especially since she felt that your abilities on the matter had recently been severely lacking. 

*

Once you were dressed and ready for breakfast, you made your way to the dining room. Oddly enough, your mother was not there, but the servants served you your usual bowl of oatmeal. It had been cooked into a porridge and lightly sweetened with honey. You could smell the delicate wildflower honey amongst the much stronger smells of milk and oats. 

"Lady (Name)," Alexandra said. You looked up from the bowl at which you had been staring blankly. When you didn't respond, Alexandra continued. "Unfortunately, your lady mother is unable to join you today. She has other matters to which she must attend."

_ And they are much more important matters than waiting around for you_, the voice that sounded like your mother said.

"And she wishes you the best of luck on your meeting with the king today." Alexandra said.

_ That is_, _ she wishes that you do not continue to waste your opportunity to dazzle the king with your overwhelming charm and wit_.

You nodded in response. Alexandra disappeared as quickly as she had appeared once you acknowledged her message.

Looking down, you went back to observing your oatmeal as if you had not been interrupted. It looked no more appetizing than it had just a few moments ago, and your quiet stomach made no acknowledgement of the sustenance before you. You opted instead to take a sip of the still steaming cup of tea standing beside the bowl. Though you knew that you had to eat, you were having trouble mustering the strength to even pick up your spoon. You had been having trouble eating all week. 

When you did finally win the struggle to lift the utensil, you only ate about half of the bowl, but you drank several cups of tea. 

*

Preparing to see the king went similarly well. While there was not much to do since you were mostly ready, the last few touches—jewelry wearing and hair styling—took much longer than they should have. You could feel Arabella's hovering in the background, but you ignored it as you continued to take an inordinarily excessive amount of time comparing the merits of the earrings sitting in their boxes before you. One pair was beautiful in its simplicity, with a pair of diamonds the size of your pinky nail in a clean, golden setting. The other was more ostentatious, with a pair of aquamarines surrounded by diamonds serving as the centerpiece of a twisted, silver setting. Both matched your light blue summer dress with similar success, so you could not decide between the two. And you had the sets for both pairs of earrings prepared beside them.

Alexandra appeared again as Arabella tried to coax you into finishing faster with the simple fact of her existence. You could _ feel _ her standing behind you, staring at the back of your head.

Even Alexandra appeared surprised to see your lady's maid hovering beside you. As Alexandra stepped further into the room, Arabella turned her head to see who had opened the door. The two looked at each other, and Alexandra, in the middle of opening her mouth to speak, stopped and pressed her lips together. Arabella froze and moved her eyes back to you. The way she focused on the back of your head again betrayed a certain anxiety, like she was determined not to look anywhere else. You watched this entire exchange in the mirror. 

Finally, Alexandra turned to you and asked, "When will you be ready, Lady (Name)? The carriage is already prepared."

_ Hurry up_. _ Everyone is waiting for _you.

"I'll. I'll be right there," you said, voice quiet and weak.

"I'm sorry?" Alexandra asked and stepped forward.

Clearing your throat, you repeated your previous statement. She nodded and curtsied before leaving the room, which you found odd. Usually, Alexandra waited for you in your bedroom if you were still preparing to go. You looked at Arabella again, but she was still staring at the back of your head. 

The diamonds—you decided on them. It didn't take long for you to don the jewelry. You sighed heavily and stood, picking up the pair of gloves that you had deposited earlier on your vanity. You had lied earlier. There was no big decision between the two sets of jewelry. You had known what you wanted to wear for a long time, but you simply prolonged the time you were spending in front of the mirror by staring at your earrings.

Arabella curtsied as you left and bid you goodbye. When you opened the door, you found Alexandra waiting immediately outside of it. Her eyes flitted behind you for just a moment before settling on your face. "My lady," she said with a curtsy.

"Shall we?" you asked.

She nodded and fell into step slightly behind you.

*

Seated in the carriage, you tried not to think of the last time that you made this trip. You had been so happy with the book that you had bought for the king. But now you had to question everything you had done and whether your actions had actually worked like you intended. Was the king happy to receive such a gift? Did he think you were meddling too much in his affairs? Your mother had said it was a good idea, and she did know him better than you. But were those words false?

You stared out of the window and watched the world around you through the thin curtain. Everything was tinted a dark red: the buildings, the people wandering on the street, and the other carriages. Alexandra's presence was even less comforting than usual, especially the way she kept glancing over at you. You wondered if it had anything to do with your less than enthusiastic morning or how you most certainly looked horrible today; however, you knew that she would not engage or try to give you advice. If you didn't say anything, then she would do the same. 

But she would tell your mother if you asked to turn around and go home, and your mother would not be happy. You had to go through with the day.

*

When you arrived at the castle, a squadron of servants came to meet you. The entire atmosphere was very different from the first visit two and a half weeks ago.

A butler dressed in a suit of noticeably higher quality than the rest approached you and bowed before speaking. "Lady (Name), the king's meeting with his advisers is running late. He apologizes and wishes to request that you wait for him at your meeting place."

You nodded and pressed your lips together in what you knew should look like a smile. "Of course."

He bowed again. "If you would please follow me, then I will escort you to the intended destination," he said before turning around and heading for the castle. 

Though you were reluctant to follow, you knew it was too late to turn around and walk away. Too many people had seen you arrive, and all of those people would see you go if you left. The other butlers remained in place as they waited for you to head inside of the castle. You had to make a conscious effort to walk, to put one foot in front of the other, and it felt like everyone was watching you now that they had noted your reluctance. To avoid their gazes, you kept your eyes fixed on the butler in front of you. 

He led you to a room you didn't recognize. It was still on the first floor of the castle, but you had never been there before, which you thought was odd. You had run around all the rooms of the first floor with Renner when the two of you had been children. The room was decorated in a manner befitting royalty, with plush, red couches and paintings depicting scenes of people dancing. Many of the figures in the paintings wore red. You didn't recognize the furniture, which made sense since you had never been in this room, but the individual pieces did not seem to be new. Accompanying the couches were wooden tables of deceptively simple cut, but you noticed metallic accents on the corners and feet. And, once you noticed the metallic accents on the feet of the tables, you noticed that they extended to the couches and chairs, as well. The room was oddly modest in tone, considering the general air of decadence that your uncle had preferred when it came to furnishings. However, what truly interested you in this room was not the furniture or the paintings: it was the large windows and french doors that gave you a perfect view of the castle grounds beyond the room. You could guess what the king's intentions were, meeting you here, and some of your earlier anxiety lessened in severity at yet another display of his thoughtfulness. 

But then you did it again. You remembered your mother's words, her insistence that you were taking advantage of the king's kindness. At the memory, you started feeling nauseated, the feeling traveling from your abdomen up to your nose. Your legs began to shake, and you sat down in the chair beside which you had stopped.

The butler was looking at you expectantly.

"I'm sorry?" you asked.

"Would you like a refreshment?" he inquired.

What little of the bland oatmeal you had eaten this morning was threatening to make a reappearance. You shook your head. "No, thank you."

He bowed and directed the question to Alexandra, which she also refused.

"The king will be with you shortly," the butler said and bowed to you before leaving. 

Alexandra didn't even look at you as she sat down nearby. The two of you waited in silence. You did not sit there for long as the king arrived shortly after.

"Lady (Name)!" he greeted you. A grin graced his expression. All it took was one look at your face for it to disappear. "How are you?" he asked. His question was innocent enough. He didn't outright voice his concern. 

Glancing at Alexandra, you tried to see her expression, but she already stood up in respect for his presence, which reminded you that you did not.

Rude, rude. Your forgetfulness was yet another example of how inappropriate you were for the role of queen. 

Standing, you curtsied. When you raised your head, you could see the disquiet in his face. It nestled into the lines around his mouth, which only deepened as he began to frown. And then he smiled. It was forced—you could see that much. Though he had forced his mouth into the shape of a smile, it did not appear at home on his face as his smiles usually did.

"I was planning on going for a walk on the castle grounds. Would you like to join me?" he asked.

"Of course," you responded. Then you looked down at the floor, the hardwood neatly arranged into one large flower in the center of the room, with a circle in the center of a darker wood than the surrounding planks and thin petals lighter. The rounded lines that formed the outsides of the petals extended beyond the tip and overlapped to form teardrop patterns. Now, you understood the simplicity of the furniture. It had been ordered to match the floor, likely a decision your aunt had made when she was still alive. She always had more taste than your uncle. 

You heard, rather than saw, the king walk over to one of many French doors in the room and turn one of the knobs. Then he stopped moving. Looking up, you found that his gaze was fixed on you.

"Lady (Name)?" he asked.

Immediately, you walked over to him, but you did not make eye contact or try to speak to him. The two of you headed outside, followed by Alexandra and the royal guards.

You stared blankly at the path in front of you as you walked. The brickwork was a faded red, telling of the long years that it had served underfoot. Curiosity about what kind of foliage was growing on the castle grounds started to nag at the back of your mind, but you easily ignored it. You wished it were so easy to quiet the other things that your brain was remembering.

"(Name)," the king said quietly.

Slowly, you turned to look at him. "Yes, your majesty?" you asked.

He frowned at your use of the title but said nothing. The worry you saw earlier was still there. "Are you feeling well? We can end today's activities early if you aren't. I don't want you to feel obligated to go through with them."

_He_'_s_ _only being polite_.

"I'm fine. I promise," you said. "I hope you do not worry about me so much, your majesty."

This time, he furrowed his brows. You could see on his face that he was dying to ask you why you would be so formal when the two of you agreed otherwise. If you spoke quietly enough, then there was really no way for others to hear what you were saying, which was why the king had chanced referring to you only by your first name. Maybe you could tell him the truth. You knew that he would listen to you, console you. When it came to your argument with Shalltear, he had been invested in the outcome.

_ And you only take advantage of his kindness_.

You looked away from him. No, you couldn't. You couldn't burden him with your problems when he had so many of his own. It was only due to his kind nature that he had listened to you before. Telling him more would only show him how weak you were, how inappropriate for the role of queen. And you were inappropriate. You had never been royal enough—or even a good enough person. Again, you thought of the horrible way you used to think of him: being in his presence had disgusted you. You second guessed every word out of his mouth because you thought that he was a liar, a trickster. Even though he had been your uncle's close friend and confidant, you thought that he relished in the thought of stealing the throne from him when he was just as saddened by his execution as you were.

Your earlier nausea returned, the wave solid and thick.


	20. Chapter 20

With Shalltear's arm hooked around the elbow of your left, the two of you made your way along the path in the park. In the last few days, the heatwave had broken. It was actually a rather pleasant spring day, with plenty of sunlight and a brisk breeze. All around you, people engaged in varied activities, from walking to sitting and chatting to enjoying picnics. Today was the kind of day that you often saw depicted in paintings, and all the scene was missing was a lovely lake reflecting the sunlight.

"Mother's getting on well," Shalltear said. "My little sister should be ready to arrive within the month." She was grinning, her sharp teeth on display. While you were still unconvinced of her insistence that she would have another baby sister, you nodded and made the appropriate noises to let her know that you were listening.

"Elizabeth is becoming my little protégé," she boasted. Shalltear walked with a little more pride than before, resulting in an extra bounce in her step that disrupted your rhythm. You had to adjust to it quickly.

You hummed in response.

"She continues to ask me about politics," Shalltear explained. "Without father around, of course," she added.

Nodding quite seriously this time, you continued to walk. All you had to do was put one foot in front of the other, and you could get through this day without any more unfortunate occurrences. You had already upset Gazef—you did not need to drag Shalltear into your mess, as well.

"We've moved beyond the Baharuth Empire and begun discussing the matters of the Slane Theocracy and the Holy Kingdom. She's quite interested. Eliza keeps bringing up good points and asking questions." She sighed happily. "She is truly my little sister."

Another nod.

"She's interested in different forms of government, like the difference between our monarchy and the theocracies of Slane and Holy Kingdom. I can't wait to get to the subjects of oligarchies and democracies. I think she will find them interesting."

A hum of agreement.

"You've been awfully silent today," Shalltear noted.

Shrugging, you walked. First, you moved your left foot. Then, you moved the right. 

"(Name)! Why are you being so dull?" Shalltear had stopped, tugging you into a halt, as well. 

You looked into her eyes for the first time today. "I'm just tired," you said and forced a smile on your face. It was nothing more than a tugging on the corners of your mouth. 

She frowned, furrowed her brows, and then looked behind you. Alexandra was following the two of you. Usually, Lady Bloodfallen would accompany you on your walks in the park, but her advancing condition had rendered her unable. It was for the best. You did not want to worry her when she had other matters about which to concern herself.

"Did something happen?" she asked, voice lowered. 

You did not want to respond. Of course, something happened. But you knew how Shalltear would react, the things she would say. You did not need to feel any worse. However, you did not want to lie. Lying was worse than merely staying silent.

"(Name)." Shalltear drew your attention again. "Please tell me. I'm worried about you."

Shaking your head, you looked at the path in front of you. "There's nothing to tell. Mother said something. I got upset. You've heard it before."

"But you've never been so." She trailed off. Apparently, your current bout of melancholy was beyond her ability to classify. "It's worse than usual," she finally said.

"I suppose."

For the next few moments, the two of you continued to walk. Shalltear had fallen into a silence that rivaled your own. You took the time to observe the other park-goers around you. Closest to you was a pair of young ladies, chatting and laughing on a bench. The breeze would occasionally shift their hair or skirts. Beside them sat a matronly figure, likely the mother of one or both, but the girls did not look alike, so you did not think that a relation was likely. They were probably friends, much like you and Shalltear. However, unlike you and Shalltear, they appeared to be enjoying each other's company. You had to look away. You already knew that you weren't an ideal companion at this moment. 

"Weren't you supposed to meet the king a few days ago?" Shalltear asked.

"Yes," you said. You could guess what she was trying to imply.

"Did that meeting go poorly as a result of what your mother said?" she inquired.

Instead of answering, your lips flattened against each other.

"It did," she answered her own question.

You looked away from her, focusing on the people around you.

"Did she say something in reference to the king?"

Again, you remained silent.

"She did."

You neither confirmed nor denied her suspicions.

The two of you continued to walk down the path in silence. Beside you, Shalltear seemed to be deep in thought, but you had no idea about what she could be thinking. 

She turned to you and said, "One moment." Then she removed her arm from yours in order to walk over to Alexandra. Shalltear whispered something to her, and the woman nodded in response. Though you saw her lips move, you were unsure of what she said. Shalltear quickly returned to you. She started tugging you in a different direction. 

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"Home. I told Alexandra that I believe I am having womanly problems," Shalltear responded. The way that Shalltear relayed her conversation with Alexandra made you believe that Shalltear did not actually have any issues, but her statement only begged the question of why she would suddenly decide to go home. You wondered if your reluctance to speak had anything to do with her decision to leave the park.

The ride over to the Bloodfallen estate was quick. Once you arrived, Alexandra stayed behind in the carriage as she always did, and Shalltear dragged you to her room. 

You sat down on one of the chairs in the corner of Shalltear's bedroom as she paced back and forth. The chair had a pair, and between them stood a small, rounded table. While the setup was insufficient as a work environment, it was good for a chat. Beside the furniture was a large bookshelf, with shelves stuffed with books and articles. You knew that many of them regarded matters of politics and philosophy, as well as copies of various legal documents. "Can you please tell me why you insisted that we come to your home?" you asked.

"Because, dear (Name), I thought that you would be much more forthcoming about what happened with the king once you could be sure that Alexandra would not overhear what you have to say," Shalltear said with a smile. But then she started pacing again.

"There's nothing to say," you said again. You didn't want to tell her what your mother had said to you or how you ruined your day with the king.

"Are you sure?" Shalltear asked.

You shrugged.

"That's not an answer."

"No, it's not."

"Then why won't you give me one?" Shalltear had stopped pacing, her eyes wide and trained on you. "I'm your best friend. You can trust me."

"I told you—"

Interrupting you, Shalltear said, "Yes, yes. It's nothing new. I heard you the first time." Then she walked over to you and sat down on the chair across the table from you. Leaning over that table, Shalltear grabbed your hands. "I've already guessed that whatever your mother said was about the king."

You nodded reluctantly, not quite meeting her eyes. Instead, you looked at her nose or the space in between her eyebrows.

"And, knowing your mother, it was another iteration of her usual complaint that you're not royal enough, which is garbage," Shalltear continued.

"Not quite."

"No?" Shalltear raised her eyebrows in an expression of mild shock. "How odd."

"It only came in at the end as a tertiary matter."

After a few moments of deliberation, Shalltear asked, "Can you please just tell me what happened?"

You sighed. "Mother is displeased with how I have been conducting myself in front of the king."

"What? What have you done that is so bad?" Shalltear asked, irritation already creeping into her tone. You flinched, and she immediately backpedaled. "I'm sorry. Continue."

"She believes that I have been burdening him by telling him about my argument with you at all—but especially since I continued speaking with him on the matter." Since Shalltear did not look like she intended to interrupt again, you continued. "And then she believes that I was trying to get him to pity me when I played sad songs for him during his visit."

Instead of saying anything, Shalltear only squeezed your hands once and then twice. 

"I tried to tell her that he wanted to speak with me about the matter, that he said he wanted to hear my favorite compositions, but she refused to listen. She just said that I was taking advantage of his kindness."

Shalltear was practically vibrating with all of the unsaid words—many likely of the explicit nature—that she refused to say.

"So when I went to see the king, I could not say anything to him without remembering what mother said. I couldn't help but wonder if she's right. What if he truly does not want to hear about all these things? I don't want to make seeing me unpleasant. I want him to be happy when he's with me." As you spoke, your eyes started to sting, and your nose began to fill. "So, with all those doubts swimming around in my head, I could not speak to him. He noticed. And he tried to ask me what was wrong, but I couldn't answer. I didn't want to burden him." 

Shalltear stood, pulled you out of your chair, and wrapped her arms around you, rubbing your back. "She's wrong," Shalltear whispered as you began to sob. "The king is polite with everyone but, having seen him with you, I can tell you for certain that he's much more open and talkative with you. And, if he really didn't want to hear about our fight, then he wouldn't be the one to bring it up or try to help you fix it. Or give you advice about it. He wouldn't dance with you if he was only polite to you."

You pulled away to look at Shalltear. 

Raising her hands to the level of your cheeks, she wiped away your tears. "Don't listen to your mother. She's an angry, bitter person. She always has been. And especially don't let her ruin your relationship with Gazef. Don't let her put words in his mouth. He's a kind person. She's not. She cannot possibly understand how he feels. Okay?"

In response, you nodded. Your mother had never liked the way that you conducted yourself or acted towards other people. For one, she had always complained that you were too honest with Shalltear, that you showed her too much. She had made the same complaint of your relationship with Renner. Your mother always believed that others should only see what you want them to see of you, and your honesty was in direct conflict with that idea. But you had never wanted to appear perfect to people you cared about. You didn't feel the need to pretend with Shalltear, Renner, Jircniv and, now, Gazef. And you had the feeling that none of them pretended with you. When you first met Gazef, at the royal ball, you saw the casual, light way he chatted with the other nobles, but he was different with you. His manner was gentle but teasing—open. He had complained to you about his kingly duties and admitted that he wasn't familiar with the classical compositions you preferred.

"I'm sure that, if you tell him what happened, then he'll tell you the same thing," Shalltear added.

Immediately, you began shaking your head. "I can't."

"Why not?" Shalltear asked.

"They're friends," you responded.

Shalltear cocked her head to her left and furrowed her brow. "So?"

"You didn't see how nice and friendly she was with him. He'll never believe me."

Frowning, Shalltear looked at you for another moment before she responded. "She was nice to him?"

"Yes. They were joking and laughing. Her laugh actually sounded happy."

Shalltear made the same face as before. "I'm not sure I believe you."

You just shook your head. "You don't have to believe me, but she actually seemed happy for once—until I arrived, of course." 

"Well, that last part sounds right," Shalltear muttered. "Fine," she acquiesced. "Don't tell him that your mother constantly tries to destroy your self-esteem. But you're going to have to tell him something and apologize for acting strangely."

"You're right," you said. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coronavirus is a thing, so here's a distraction!  
Seriously, I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe!   
Have a good one!

You sat beside Shalltear in the coach filled with her and her sisters. Elizabeth and Magdalene were across from you. Since the two girls were closer in age to each other than you and Shalltear, they were the best of friends. They also looked almost identical, already taller than their elder sister at the ages of seventeen and fifteen, with the same white blonde hair and blood red eyes that Shalltear had inherited from their mother. Both girls had their hair done up with many curls decorating the sides, and they wore beautiful dresses. Elizabeth wore a very feminine light blue dress while Magdalene was in green.

Currently, they were sharing some secret of theirs to which you and Shalltear were not meant to be privy, something that they made very obvious with their very loud whispering while glancing over at the two of you and giggling. 

While you knew that Elizabeth had been recently taking lessons in politics from Shalltear, you never would have guessed that she was interested at all. She always seemed more intrigued by gossiping with her sister. On the other hand, Magdalene was exactly as she appeared, and Shalltear often complained about her sister's tendency to always make light of all matters.

Looking out the window, you focused on the city rolling past. If you continued paying attention to other things, then you were certain that you would get sick again.

"(Name)?" Elizabeth asked.

You turned to her just in time to see Magdalene start giggling and grabbing at Elizabeth's arm. Elizabeth frowned and smacked at Magdalene's hands.

"Stop it, Eliza!" Magdalene protested.

"Then stop grabbing me," Elizabeth said in response. She glowered at her younger sister for a moment before returning her gaze to you.

What exactly was going on between the two of them, you weren't sure, so you turned to Shalltear, who was observing their interaction without so much as a raised brow. She was used to her sisters' silliness.

"Yes?" you asked once it was clear that Elizabeth was not going to speak until prompted.

"Is it really true that you're going to marry the king?" she asked. Magdalene giggled beside her and almost shook from excitement.

"We're not engaged. He is only courting me, so I cannot be sure," was your response.

Elizabeth and Magdalene did not appear discouraged by your less-than-helpful response.

"But he is courting you," Elizabeth confirmed.

You nodded. Again, you looked at Shalltear, but she was watching her sisters.

"And has been for months!" Magdalene finally spoke to you.

"He has, yes," you agreed.

"So he will!" Magdalene said. She and Elizabeth turned to each other and giggled again.

"And (Name) is very excited," Shalltear said and patted your hand, which was in your lap.

At her contribution to this conversation, you immediately blushed. You could feel the heat behind your cheekbones.

The girls looked even giddier than before. "You'll have to introduce us to princes!" they demanded.

Your embarrassment only grew. "I don't know if I'll marry the king." Looking down at your lap, you tried to stop the steadily worsening blush. You could already feel that the tops of your ears had burst into flame. But no one paid attention to you. Magdalene and Elizabeth were now very loudly discussing which princes they wanted to marry, and Shalltear had gone back to ignoring them. But you didn't mind the noise, the joking, or even the silly demands.

The coach stopped, and the driver hopped down from his seat to open the door for the four of you. As the eldest, you stood up to leave first and took the proferred hand of the driver to help steady you down the steps. Then you waited for Shalltear to follow, and you offered her your arm. Lady and Lord Bloodfallen were far ahead of you, and Lady Bloodfallen turned her head to grin at you and Shalltear. Her husband supported her as she waddled to the front door, where a tall man stood beside the open door. The two of you walked up to the front door of the Gown estate, where the estate steward had just finished conversing with Lord Bloodfallen, who proceeded through the front double doors with his wife. Made of a dark wood and set with opaque windows with golden accents, the doors were grand and enormous. You supposed that they had to be: Lord Gown was a tall man. Back when he first purchased the estate, he had it renovated to suit his stature. 

"Lady Bloodfallen and Lady (Last Name), welcome to the estate of Lord Ainz Ooal Gown!" he said with a wide grin as he bowed, one hand on his chest and the other hidden behind his back. He was dressed in a black suit, but you could tell that the material was expensive, and it had been tailored to fit his body. You were also impressed that he immediately knew who you were. Though you weren't sure, you believed that you had never seen him before. 

"Thank you," Shalltear said.

"Thank you," you repeated.

As he straightened his back, you noticed that the man standing before you was slim despite his almost disproportionately large shoulders. He had long limbs that made him appear even taller than when you first saw him. His black hair was slicked back, and he wore small, circular glasses.

"My name is Demiurge, and I am Lord Gown's estate steward. The team at this estate and I will be serving you this afternoon. I assure you that you will have the best possible experience." He bowed again. "If you follow this hallway, then you will find the dining room."

"Thank you," said the both of you before proceeding down the hallway which he indicated. 

Already inside was a fairly large group. You must have been one of the last to arrive. 

Shalltear looked through the crowd with incredible focus, likely trying to find Lord Gown amongst his much shorter guests. She succeeded quickly and immediately headed towards him. As Shalltear dragged you over with her, you realized that the king was there, as well, already speaking to Lady and Lord Bloodfallen. He didn't seem to notice as you walked past, which left you feeling disappointed. You took the opportunity to observe his dress for the afternoon. Just like the evening of the first ball, he was in his modified military uniform. The Bloodfallen ball must have been an exception. However, this time around, you took the opportunity to appreciate the fit of the aubergine jacket and the accompanying white pants. His knee-length boots were polished meticulously, as was proper. 

"Lord Gown!" Shalltear exclaimed. She tugged on your arm to catch your attention, so you knew that she caught you staring at the king. "Thank you for inviting us into your home," Shalltear said, just horribly polite.

"You're welcome, Lady Bloodfallen," he said.

You turned to look at the tall man standing in front of you and said. "Yes, and thank you for agreeing with Shalltear's request to bring me along."

Lord Gown smiled at you politely. "I'm happy to have you here."

"How are you?" Shalltear asked. You could see that she was not at all interested in such an asinine question, but she felt compelled to follow through the usual ritual of small talk before proceeding to other matters.

"I'm doing well. How are you?"

"I'm well."

Lord Gown looked at you expectantly.

"Never better," was your response. And you would have said it regardless of how you were actually feeling.

Shalltear turned to Lord Gown. "What do you think about the rumors that the emperor of the Baharuth is unwell?" Shalltear asked. Immediately, she was diving into her concerns about the empire's future. You wondered how Lord Gown would respond to her candidness. 

"If it is indeed true that he is sick, then it could be very bad for us," Lord Gown said seriously. "Prince Jircniv has made his distaste for the nobility of the Baharuth very well known. I am concerned that he may revoke the policies his father instituted with regard to the Re-estize because of the importance of nobility in our society. On the other hand, he might approve of our King's ascent, which may endear him to us."

Shalltear nodded. "I agree. I wonder how he feels about the matter. It is, however, quite unfortunate that he does not appear to be in a hurry to share."

You wondered if he would tell you if you asked him in a letter.

"It is worrying," Lord Gown agreed.

They continued on the topic of the policies currently in place between the empires, and which ones were absolutely necessary for the continuing healthy relationship of the two.

Since you had no opinion on the matter, you allowed your gaze to wander to the people who stood past the object of Shalltear's most sincere affections just in time to see to the king walk over with the Bloodfallens to greet Lord Raeven, whom you recognized as the kingdom's diplomatic advisor. You looked back to Lord Gown. He had seemingly effortlessly put together a party with a guestlist of the most powerful people in the Re-estize Kingdom. You were definitely starting to understand why both Shalltear and Albedo were so besotted with the man.

As you looked back to the group of four, you couldn't help but notice how Lady Bloodfallen still leaned on her husband. Her feet probably hurt horrendously, but she continued speaking to the men with a smile on her face.

You looked at Gazef, who chatted easily with the others, and remembered how he had looked at you in the face of your formality. The confusion and hurt in his expression had lingered in the back of your mind ever since you saw it and, since you had not seen him since your visit almost two weeks ago, you had not been able to apologize about the way you acted. Directing your attention to the new member of their party, you observed Lord Raeven. He had always seemed a slippery man to you. At that moment, Lady Raeven approached her husband. Their conversation, which had already been on the topic of light matters, turned to Lady Raeven inquiring after Lady Bloodfallen's health and the impending arrival of a new Bloodfallen.

"Oh, I'm doing well!" Lady Bloodfallen chirped. "And we're all very excited about the new addition to our family."

"Three children and another almost here. It must be a handful," Lady Raeven said.

"Well, our girls are practically all adults now, so it should not be a problem." Pausing for a moment, Lady Bloodfallen inclined her head. "Are you planning on having more children?" She directed the question to both of the Raevens.

"We're considering it," responded Lady Raeven.

"Rii-tan has been begging us for a brother," added Lord Raeven with a small smile, which seemed genuine. He looked happy to mention his son. Then he turned to his wife with the same expression, and they exchanged a look of fondness.

For the first time, you saw him as something more than a just a schemer. 

"How are you not married yet, your majesty?" Lady Raeven asked, turning the conversation in a direction you had not expected. And, considering the direction thus far, you understood her implication behind bringing up marriage.

The king, who had just been standing and listening, raised his brows. "The kingdom has been a priority. My advisors and I all agreed that it needed to be stabilized before I could devote my time to finding a suitable match."

Lords Bloodfallen and Raeven nodded.

"I've heard that you're courting Lady (Last Name)," said Lady Raeven. 

At the mention of your name, you turned your eyes back to Shalltear. You felt guilty for eavesdropping, but you were curious what they would say about you.

"I am," the king agreed.

"And is it going well?"

"It is."

He was being almost frustratingly silent on the matter. While you weren't particularly keen on the idea of being discussed, you were curious what the king thought of you.

"I apologize, Lady (Name)," Lord Gown said.

You looked up at him. 

"Why would you need to apologize, Lord Gown?" you asked.

"We have been ignoring you," he said.

Turning to Shalltear, you saw that she appeared mildly annoyed at having her conversation with Lord Gown interrupted, even if the interruption was caused by him. You turned back to Lord Gown.

"It's quite all right," you said. "Please don't worry about me."

"No, it's not. I do not want to exclude a guest." He smiled politely at you, and you returned the motion.

With his attention, you had no idea how the other conversation ended. You wished that they had continued ignoring you.

"However, I do believe that Demiurge would like to speak to me," Lord Gown said, staring over your head. 

You turned to see the estate steward standing beside the doorway through which you had walked only a few minutes ago. 

"If you will excuse me, ladies." Bowing his head politely, Lord Gown headed in that direction. 

Shalltear watched him walk away while you directed your attention back to the king again only to find that the Raevens had departed. You looked away before they could see you staring at them, but Lady Raeven's question stayed in your head. Of course, she had asked why the king was not yet married, but the proximity of the question to the conversation she had just had with Lady Bloodfallen on the topic of children did not leave much to the imagination. Then she had continued by bringing up the matter of your courtship with the king. You certainly knew that the title of queen brought with it expectations, but you hadn't really about them since the one evening when you and Shalltear had gotten into your horrible argument. The image of walking around with a rounded belly, much like Lady Bloodfallen's, as you leaned on the king lingered in the back of your head.

"(Name)!" Shalltear scolded.

You looked in her direction. 

"What was that?" Shalltear asked.

"What was what?" you asked in turn despite knowing the exact source of her discontent.

"Why didn't you at least pretend to be interested?"

"I'm sorry," you said. Though you were mildly annoyed at Shalltear in turn for asking Lord Gown a question she knew you had no way of following, you didn't want her to discover what you had been doing, instead.

She frowned and, in typical Shalltear fashion, looked in the direction in which you had been looking immediately. Upon discovering the source of your distraction, her irritation turned to something different entirely. Shalltear grinned. "Oh, (Name), dear."

"Shalltear," you warned. You didn't want her to say anything, especially with him so close. Shalltear wasn't exactly the most quiet person you knew.

"(Name), you have to understand that I support you entirely."

You felt heat in your cheeks.

"So you should feel comfortable telling me anything that's going on."

Despite her honeyed words, you remained silent.

Her smile turned into something more of a shit-eating grin, and she said, "You seemed terribly interested in what was happening behind Lord Gown, and I understand now."

You frowned.

"I understand, (Name), dear. After all, I feel the same way about the man you were ignoring earlier."

"Shalltear—" At the insinuation that you had feelings for the king, you felt your entire body start to burn.

"It's fine. I understand. Besides, you being off in your own world did give me an opportunity to talk to him more. And I would prefer that you stay uninterested since I don't want to have to fight over my dear Lord Gown with you in addition to Albedo."

Although Shalltear had been standing still, she started to move. You stared at her as she drew closer with every word. Looking around, you realized that the king had been watching your exchange. You were close enough that he would be able to hear your discussion if he paid attention to it, and he most certainly was now. You took a step to the side, away from Shalltear, but she followed.

"It's quite all right if you're in love with him. In fact, it's good!"

"I'm not—" you mumbled.

"I don't think that's true," she teased.

"I'm really not—"

"I don't believe you!" Shalltear sang. She had the mischievous look that you would always see—lowered lids, a smirking grin—before she launched herself at you in a hug. While you usually didn't mind her hugs, this situation was hardly appropriate for such an open display of affection. 

You knew that Shalltear would not allow you to finish your sentence unless it was a proclamation of your affection for the king. But did you love him, especially to the degree which Shalltear loved Lord Gown? Instead of replying to her provocation, you paused and considered the question. The king's presence nearby certainly made you hesitant to respond, and you raised your gaze to find that he was staring at you. He smiled, a simple raise of the left corner of his mouth, but you saw the way the corner of his left eye crinkled with the movement. With that simple exchange, you felt the violent heat of embarrassment recede into warmth. You still didn't know if your love for the king was the same as Shalltear's—or even Albedo's—for Lord Gown, but you realized that your feelings went far beyond the love you felt for Shalltear, Jircniv, or any of your family members. Although you could say with confidence that you loved your best friend, the thought, and especially the sight, of the king calmed you. On the other hand, seeing pain in his eyes hurt you, as well. There were very few people about whose emotions you had ever cared, and the king had quickly become one of them.

"I think that I do love him," you said, more to yourself than to anyone else. Speaking the words didn't feel wrong or uncomfortable.

Shalltear stopped moving for just a moment before she fulfilled the promise in her eyes and launched herself at you. Her arms wrapped tight around your waist, trapping yours in the process, and she laughed triumphantly.

"Shalltear!" you hissed. "Let go! People will see!" You tried to tear your arms from her grip, but you were unable to overpower her, as usual.

"Never!" Shalltear laughed. "You're in love with the king!"

Your impotent struggle increased in fervor but not efficacy. "Shalltear!" Desperation leaked into your voice.

"No! You're in love, and you admit it!"

"Good afternoon, Lady (Name). Lady Shalltear," said a familiar voice. 

You didn't need to look at his face or even up from the aubergine coat to know who addressed you, and who heard Shalltear's childish proclamations. Dread replaced your desperation, and you froze.

"Good afternoon, your majesty. I apologize. I would curtsy, but then (Name) would run away from me!" She laughed again.

"It's quite all right," he said with a small laugh. The laugh combined with the similarity of his statement to what Shalltear said earlier had you dying inside. There was no doubt that he had heard your entire exchange. Though there was a small chance that his diction was just a coincidence, your paranoid mind would not accept that excuse. He looked at you and then back to Shalltear. "However, I think that (Name) would prefer if you let her go free," he said.

Shalltear paused, looked at the king as if she were sizing him up. "Is that an order?"

"Not an order. A suggestion," he said.

"Then I will not." To emphasize her point, Shalltear squeezed you, and you squeaked in response. The embarrassment of making such a noise only served to humiliate you further. You averted your eyes from the king's face, on which his smile grew into a terribly amused grin.

"Should I give you an order then?" he asked. He sounded entertained by this exchange.

"Hmm." Shalltear considered his question seriously, resting her cheek against your arm. "No. But I can be bribed."

"And what kind of bribe are you looking for?"

"Information."

Laughing, he said, "What kind of information would satisfy you? I'm willing to pay any price."

"Oh, my," Shalltear gasped. "How heroic of you."

"I do try."

You looked around. Most of the guests were casually standing around in their groups, conspicuously trying to listen in whilst also engaging in conversation. You supposed that they were also interested in whatever information Shalltear was trying to weasel out of the king. When you turned back to look at Shalltear, you saw that she had affected her shit-eating grin. Whatever was about to come out of her mouth was not going to be good for the king, and you almost felt like you ought to warn him.

"When are you planning on proposing to my trapped best friend, here?" she asked.

"Shalltear!" you gasped.

The king stood across from the two of you with his eyes open wide. The two of you made eye contact and then immediately broke it. Before you looked away, you could have sworn that his cheeks turned the slightest bit pink. His entire body had gone tense, which manifested in his military training taking over and him squaring his shoulders. He had appeared just as flustered as you felt.

"Well?" Shalltear was completely unabashed by her scandalous question.

"Well, Lady Shalltear," the king began.

"I don't want to hear any excuses!" she proclaimed.

"It's not an excuse." He almost sounded petulant.

"No matter." She dropped her voice in volume significantly. "However, your majesty better hurry. Because I refuse to let any other man touch my dear (Name)."

You had thought that, no matter what Shalltear said, you could not get any more embarrassed. But you now realized that you were very wrong.

Immediately, you snapped your head to her and looked at her in shock. You were not so innocent that you could even think for a moment that the _ touching _of which Shalltear spoke ended with holding hands or a kiss on the cheek. From the corner of your eyes, you observed the king, who had continued being frozen in the face of her comment. The two of you made eye contact again. Despite his own embarrassment at Shalltear's comments, he didn't look like he had any intention of refuting her words—neither the marriage nor the touching.

He gave Shalltear an almost pained smile and said, "Lady Shalltear, please. You're ruining my surprise."

His statement was apparently the correct response because she grinned. "That's a fair point." As she spoke, she released you. 

You did not understand what had just transpired between them. Certainly, you understood the meaning of his words—he did intend to propose, the thought of which threatened to fluster you all over again. But why did Shalltear give up so easily upon hearing them? You watched her casually speak with the king.

Lord Gown chose this moment to return, and Shalltear turned all of her attention to him. Momentarily forgotten, you knew that this moment was probably the closest you would get to privacy with the king. Pushing the earlier incident from your mind, you turned to him. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but you knew that, if you allowed him to distract you, then you would lose your nerve.

"I'm sorry. When we last met, I really wasn't feeling well. I apologize for the way I acted," you said quietly. It wasn't the whole truth, but you didn't want to get into the matter in its entirety.

Reminding him of your last meeting took something away from his expression, but he nodded. "I hope you're feeling better now."

Not really. "Of course." You nodded.

"I would like to know what happened," he said. "But now is not the time or the place."

You nodded again. 


	22. Chapter 22

All around you, the birds chirped, insects buzzed, and your companions laughed. Today was a beautiful summer day, befitting the first of August, and you enjoyed the view of the garden around you. Currently, you were seated in a shaded area of the royal estate, enjoying some tea and desserts. Just outside of the raised platform on which sat your table and chairs was a tall hedge that hid your party from view while still allowing you to hear anyone that might possibly approach along the cobblestone path that you had taken. Across from you sat the king, and even as you chatted with your companions, you could not help but keep looking at him.

Of course, it made perfect sense. He was simply across from you! It was natural for you to look in that direction if you stayed seated properly.

But even such an excuse felt meager to you. You knew that Shalltear was right. You _ loved _ the king. The thought made your cheeks flush.

"Imagine my surprise when Gazef told me that the lovely girl that he was courting turned out to be quite the gardener!" said the woman to your left. She was tall, much like her son, and appeared strong despite her age, which manifested in the mild wrinkles on her face and the silver streaks through her chocolate brown hair.

You grinned bashfully. "Of course, Lady Rena, I don't even come close to you in experience!" 

"Sweetheart, I told you to just call me Rena," she said, patting your hand. Her hand was warm and heavy on top of yours. "All this lord and lady business just doesn't sit right with me. I spent too long being on the other side."

"I'll try to remember," you said shyly.

"But you have to promise to teach me all about it, so I don't look like country bumpkin talking to all these fancy lords and ladies."

You nodded with a laugh. It seemed as though the fact that you were one of those fancy lords and ladies didn't matter to her.

The woman grinned at you and then turned to her husband. Gazef's father sat to your right and, as you turned to look at him, you caught sight of Gazef. While Gazef did not look much like his mother besides sharing her coloring, he appeared as though simply a younger version of his father, Marcus, who was a rather stoic man. Where Rena often smiled and pat your hand or your shoulder, he remained calm and didn't really touch anyone. Most of the time, he didn't even speak, just sat and nodded. You were glad that Gazef leaned more towards his mother in personality: you're not sure how you would have been able to fall for him if he were as stoic.

Her attention returned to you. "Maybe you'll be able to teach him a little something about cultivating," she said.

You shrugged.

"Heaven knows that I was never able to!" Rena shook her head at her son. "The boy doesn't know the difference between rhubarb and rutabaga."

From across the table, Gazef pressed his lips together in an expression you had come to recognize as minor annoyance. "Mom, please stop exaggerating," he requested before taking a solid gulp of his tea. "I know the difference."

She shook her head. "It certainly felt that way to me. Oh, but don't you worry! My son was always good at following orders and doing the hard work." 

Laughing out loud, Rena completely ignored Gazef's quite audible sigh. However, he didn't seem like he was about to argue with her about anything she was saying. While you did feel a little sorry for him for how many barbs she had aimed at him, you were more entertained by his dynamic with his mother. The two of them seemed close, and you couldn't help but feel jealous. Your mother would never sit with you and just enjoy tea and pastries. Even Marcus, who had remained silent except for the couple of lines that Rena had forced from him, did not seem uncomfortable. He was simply quiet. You had never spent time with your mother that didn't leave you shaking with anxiety or about to burst into tears. The marked difference between Shalltear's mother or Gazef's parents, and your own mother left you with an uncomfortable feeling that permeated your entire body, from the tingling in your throat to the discomfort in your stomach. Ever since you realized just how much kinder other people's parents were to you, you had been unable to put the thought from your mind.

You dreaded the inevitable return to a silent carriage shared with a stone-faced Alexandra and the trip back to an equally silent home with a stone-faced mother. 

For the first time the entire visit, you wished that you were with Shalltear, instead. You would never dare to confess such a petty feeling to Gazef or his parents. 

Rena gently smacked at Gazef's arm, and he smiled. Turning back to you, she said, "But at least I can tell you all about the grapes I've been cultivating at that fancy estate that Gazef gave us, and you'll be able to appreciate it in full!"

You nodded. "It sounds like a lot of work, especially since the particular variety you're trying to plant doesn't do so well this far north," you said.

Shrugging, Rena sat back in her chair and took an incredibly self-satisfied sip of her tea. "I've made due with worse."

You laughed. The way that Gazef's mother acted towards you reminded you of Lady Bloodfallen. Still, you were surprised at how quickly she had taken to you, considering that the two of you only met earlier today. She had also complained many times to Gazef about the fact that he had not yet proposed to you and, even though the comments were not aimed at you, they had thoroughly flustered you every time. It's not as though you had been keeping track of them, but she had already made four in about the span of an hour.

"Rena is always the mastermind behind our planning for the spring every year," Marcus piped up. This statement was probably the first he had said unprompted. As you watched the man speak, you paid close attention to his voice. It was rather similar to his son's. Both of them had deep voices, but Marcus was quieter and spoke rather slowly.

"Even this year?" you asked.

Rena nodded. "Of course. Having a fancy estate doesn't change anything. We're still farmers." She paused, and her grin drooped slightly. "But we are getting on in our years. So we hired some young, healthy things to do the hard work while we manage. We go out there every week to make sure everything is going according to plan." By the time she finished speaking, she was back to grinning again. 

"Is the farm far?" you asked.

"Not really. An hour by coach. We usually spend the night there and return the next morning. Our bones aren't so old yet that we can't handle the drive."

"Well that's good!"

"And then, for the rest of the week, Mark and I work on the garden and greenhouse at the estate to stay moving."

"That sounds lovely," you said.

She grinned. "You should visit when I have everything where I want it. I want to see what you think."

Nodding, you said, "Of course! I'm sure I'll be impressed."

"And perhaps you can join us for a visit to the old farm at some point."

"I'd like that," you said, surprised that you genuinely felt that way. The thought of traveling out to a hamlet should have been off-putting, but it didn't bother you even though you knew that it would lack many of the conveniences with which you had grown up in the capital city of the Re-estize Kingdom. "It would be nice to see where Gazef grew up."

Rena grinned at you. "It would, wouldn't it." She turned to him. "I'm sure all of your old friends would be pleased to see you now that you've gone and gotten yourself crowned the king."

In response, he sighed. "I'm not sure how well that idea would go over with my advisors. The kingdom is still not where it should be."

Clapping Gazef's shoulder, Rena said, "Now, now. I'm sure your subjects would appreciate a chance to see their king in the flesh."

He sighed. "I would like a chance to have a break."

"There you go."

"We shall discuss it. At a later date."

"Sure. You have to marry dear (Name) first before you run off with her," Rena said. She looked awfully pleased to see the blush that immediately covered your cheeks. 

"Mother," Gazef said, exasperated.

She didn't even turn to look at him. Rena simply waved in his direction. "The farm is enormous! We always had to hire farmhands to help take care of the fields and gather the crop, but this year is the first that we're not participating personally." Looking at Marcus, she asked, "How many people do we have working the land this year?"

He thought on the question for a moment before responding with "Ten."

Judging from Rena's grin, you understood that it was an impressive number, even if your understanding did not go far beyond that. You smiled at her in response. 

She laughed. "I know it doesn't mean much, but it's pretty good for us. I never imagined that we would have the money to hire so many helpers. Of course, I always thought that Gazef would take over, but he surprised everyone when he went off and started playing mercenary when all of his friends started settling down and making families."

Some part of you was relieved that he decided to leave instead of settling down back then.

From the corner of your eye, you saw that Gazef shifted and focused on the tea cup in front of him. He seemed to be preparing for the barbs that his mother was already aiming his way.

"I thought that, maybe, after he was done with all that unpleasant business, he would come home. But no." She sighed heavily and leaned on the left arm of her chair, the one closer to Gazef. However, you could tell that she was playing at being upset rather than truly feeling that way. The one glimmer of sadness that you had seen from her the entire time you had spent with her happened just before, when she mentioned that she and her husband were getting old. "Gazef got himself hired as the king's bodyguard."

At the mention of his name, the king turned to look at his mother. Gazef remained with his back reclined against his chair. Having known him for three months now, you had come to realize that his body language often reverted to the stiffness of his military training whenever he was truly uncomfortable, and none of that was in his mannerisms now. Looking between the two of them, you got the feeling that this instance was not the first time that they had had this conversation. Perhaps there were hurt feelings before, but Rena's words were now merely a statement of fact.

"But he was always a good boy," Rena said, turning her gaze back to you. "He sent us money every month, and it helped pay for supplies and labor. And now he's the king. Times are rather strange. Don't you think?"

You nodded. They were certainly strange for you. "While the times are strange, I think I prefer them this way," you said. 

As you looked up, you saw that Gazef was looking at you, but his face was blank. However, the corner of his mouth quirked up when he saw you.

"I think I like how everything turned out, too," she said. After a moment, Rena turned to Marcus. "What do you think, honey?" She grinned. "(Name), here, would make a good daughter-in-law, hm?"

You felt your cheeks heat up in the already hot air. 

Marcus smiled awkwardly, the left corner of his mouth cutting into his cheek. "She would."

"See! Even that old sourpuss likes her!" Rena said. But when you turned to look at her again, you found that she was not facing your direction but Gazef's, instead, who appeared flustered in turn. For just a moment, the two of you made eye-contact, and he looked like he was regretting inviting his parents today.

"Mother," he said, almost pleading.

"Don't you mother me!" Rena responded. "I thought that I was going to die without any grandchildren. Then here you are with such a nice girl right across from you that you've known for months, and you haven't proposed to her yet!"

Instead of responding, Gazef rubbed his forehead.

You wanted to save him—and consequently yourself—from such an uncomfortable situation, but you knew that mentioning that you would say yes would only cause more complications than they would fix. Of course, you had known of this impending proposal for over a month now, and Gazef all but confirmed it at the lunch two weeks ago, but hearing your _ future mother_-_in_-_l__aw _ harp on the matter so much was starting to exasperate you, as well. The matter of the _ grandchildren _ that she was apparently already expecting didn't help you maintain a calm demeanor, either. 

"Can we please discuss this later?" he asked.

"Fine," Rena huffed. "Later."

Raising your teacup to hide your smile, you tried not to laugh at the almost petulant way that Rena was acting.

Perhaps having her and Marcus as your in-laws would be rather wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that I've taken so long to get this new chapter out! ><  
I've been pretty shit about writing ever since this whole quarantine thing happened, so it has taken a while to finish this chapter up.  
I'm going to try and stick to a schedule, now, so I hopefully shouldn't be too bad about updating.  
As for the actual story, shit's going to be real cute for now, but it's about to get real bad.  
See you next time!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! :D For good! Maybe! Who knows?  
But I wrote a thing!  
*rubs hands together* We're swiftly approaching the climax. Good times ahead.  
Enjoy! ^^

You sat silently in the drawing room on the yellow, plush monstrosity as you waited for Gazef to finish discussing the matter of the engagement with your mother. Of course, traditionally, he would have spoken with your father, but you had none as it were. In addition, you felt that this strangely ceremonious adherence to tradition was completely unnecessary because your mother had informed you several months ago that there was no question of your marrying the king. You felt the hot rush of humiliation at the memory. Your response to her _ request _ that you place yourself in Gazef's affections had been horribly childish, and you regretted it.

Glancing towards the doorway, you wondered for the umpteenth time what exactly they had to discuss. There was no question of the king's financial standing or prospects. He was the _ king _ and, while the treasury was currently rather sparse as a result of your uncle's actions, it was expected to return to its former glory with the improvements that the king and his advisors had been putting in place. The only real issue in that regard was that your mother clearly wanted her person to have been included among the number of the advisors, but she was the only one.

Still, you wished that you would have been able to sit with your mother in anticipation of the good news, not that you actually imagined your actual mother sitting beside you in this scenario. Upon closing your eyes, you instead saw Lady Bloodfallen—with Shalltear in the role of your sister beside you. You pushed the silly thought from your head.

After another few torturous minutes, you heard the sound of footsteps: the heavier step of the king and the lighter clicks of your mother.

You stood immediately and sank into a curtsy upon their entrance into the room.

"Please rise, (Name)," Gazef said.

Your mother made no comment about the way he referred to you, instead moving towards the couch that sat across from yours. Gazef sat down beside where you stood but at an appropriate distance, and you followed his lead. 

"The king and I have discussed the matter of your engagement, and we have come to a satisfactory decision," she said.

From beside you, Gazef said, "We will make the announcement of the engagement by the end of this week, and we have believe that it would be best to plan the wedding quickly rather than have a long engagement."

You nodded. Of course, whether the engagement would be allowed was never going to be a question. They had simply been working out the details while they were in private. You tried not to feel resentment that they had not thought to invite you to the planning of _ your _ engagement and _ your _ wedding. 

"Yes, I agree. However, I do not believe that we should rush into the wedding. It would not look good," you said. The reasons why rushing a wedding would be necessary ran through the back of your mind, and you could not help but think about the inappropriateness of them. To avoid the blush that threatened to make its presence known on your cheeks, you had to look away from Gazef and instead focus on the coffee table sitting between the couches.

"You bring up a good point," your mother said. "But there is some concern among the people about the lack of heir, and I think that it is a valid reason for us to proceed towards the wedding in a brisk manner."

"Of course, mother," you said, feeling silly for bringing up the matter at all. Of course, your mother and the king would have already considered it without your input. The fact that your mother was including you in this conversation at all meant that all of the details had already been ironed out. All you had to do was proceed in the manner that had already been chosen. However, the matter of this heir that you were supposed to produce sent nervous energy down your spine. You knew that any young bride was expected to have children within a reasonable time frame after the wedding, but the prospect had seemed far away before, and it was coming terribly close now. While you knew that your mother would not approve of any fidgeting, you tried to work out some of the anxiety you were feeling by curling your toes in your shoes. The only reason why you felt confident about doing such an action in your mother's presence was that you knew she could see your feet under your skirts. You would never dare to wring your hands, twiddle your thumbs, or shake your legs where she could see—such an action was very unbecoming of a young lady. And, even though your upbringing was rather unconventional, you were still expected to act like one, especially if you were going to become queen, and shortly at that.

From across the coffee table, your mother looked at you with an expression that was verging on exasperation without actually falling into it. Her lips seemed especially tight around her teeth, and her eyes were just barely narrowed. 

Clearly, she did not appreciate your contribution. 

You had the feeling that she wanted to make some sort of sarcastic remark but was holding herself back because of the present company.

"We shall have to plan the wedding and invite all of the appropriate guests, and I shall convene with my advisors about all of the necessary faces to whom we must extend an invitation in order to avoid insulting or snubbing anyone even if they cannot attend," Gazef said.

Just barely turning your head, you glanced up at him. He gave you a vaguely uncomfortable smile in response. You realized with some chagrin that he had noticed the discomfort between you and your mother.

"I would be happy to come up with a list of my own, and we can discuss the matter fully at a later date." She paused and forced the corners of her mouth up into a smile that you barely believed. "However, we should not wait too long before then. The venue, date, and guest list are the most important elements to which we must attend immediately. The faster we confirm those matters, the faster the two of you can be married. Decoration, food, and dress can be determined at a later date."

"Of course." Gazef nodded.

Your mother didn't even bother to look in your direction. You wondered in just how much of this wedding planning you would be allowed to participate. Perhaps she would deem your input ultimately unnecessary and decide on everything with Gazef, herself. You had to remind yourself not to be too bitter even though you were sure that Shalltear would have encouraged that bitterness. Mother always knew best, didn't she?

As you tried your best to ignore the emotions that were firmly lodging themselves into the back of your skull, you focused on the sound of Gazef's voice—rather than the content—as he continued the discussion of the wedding with your mother. Unfortunately, he then turned to you.

"What do you think, (Name)? Are you comfortable with how everything is progressing?"

Instead of lie, which you had already done too much, you admitted, "I didn't hear what you said. I apologize. Can you repeat what you said?"

You noticed the brief narrowing of your mother's eyes and the press of her lips into a thin line, and you immediately regretted your honesty.

"Of course," Gazef said, a kind smile on his lips. The sight of him pushed your mother's displeasure from your mind. "I already put in an order for the engagement ring, and the jeweler has begun working on it. I did consult with your mother about the size of your ring finger and your favorite stone, but I would like to go to the jeweler together to make sure that you like it and make any necessary adjustments. Is that okay with you?"

You nodded. "I'd be happy to join you."

"Good." Gazef grinned. Then he looked in the direction of your mother. "Did we cover all of the topics we needed to discuss?"

"Yes," she said.

"Excellent." With a nod, Gazef turned back to you. "Do you have any questions or concerns? Or is there something else you want to talk about?"

Chancing a look towards your mother, you saw that her face was completely blank. "No, I do not believe so. But I'm sure I'll remember something the moment you leave," you said with a small smile.

Gazef's eyes moved down the line of your arms, his gaze settling on your hands, but he neither said nor did anything.

"Unfortunately, if our business is concluded, then I should go. I have to return to the castle to discuss the matter of the wedding with my advisors, now." The smile that your fiancé gave you was strained, and his eyes were suddenly tired. "I wish that I could have spent more time with you, but it cannot be today." He turned to your mother and said, "I shall try to determine the matter of the guest list with them and send you the result by the end of the day." 

"Excellent. I look forward to hearing from your majesty."

Once Gazef stood, the two of you stood as well and curtsied. He nodded and responded in kind as you said your good-byes, promptly departing afterward. Sitting back down on the couch, you fixed your gaze on the coffee table that stood between the couches in preparation of the verbal lashing that you were sure you were about to receive. But it did not come. Though you were slightly confused, you looked up at your mother, who still stood in front of her place on the couch instead of sitting down or leaving. Her blank gaze was fixed on you, and it remained fixed on you until you heard the sound of a brief discussion involving Gazef and one of the servants, and then the sound of the front door closing.

It was rather unnerving. 

"What was that?" she asked you, her brows raised and eyes slightly widened.

"What was what?" you responded with a question of your own.

"Do not get clever with me, girl," she snapped.

You bit back your response. The sight of your mother towering over you while you sat—even from across the table—brought back memories that you quickly dismissed. She did not often feel the need to stand while scolding you. Even from behind a desk, she was perfectly capable of maintaining a position of power.

"Your only two contributions to the conversation were foolish and flighty. Of course we would have spoken about the matter of such an early wedding without needing you to remind us of the perceptions around it. And then you very clearly showed the king that you were not paying attention by asking him to repeat what he had said." Ice filled her tone. "If you are too stupid to listen when someone is speaking to you, then you should just smile and agree with whatever they say. But, instead, you insist on embarrassing me over and over."

Not knowing what else to say, you just nodded along with her words.

"Oh? Now you have been struck dumb? How convenient. Unfortunate that it did not happen earlier," she said. "Useless, blundering girl," she spat.

Flinching, you were reminded of all the times that she had struck your cheek when you had been a child, of the sharp pain and confusion that you felt. 

In response, your mother did nothing but look upon you with disgust. Then, she left the room, apparently calmed of all the anger she felt just moments prior.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
I just want to take a moment to thank everyone who has read, left kudos, and commented on this little story of mine. It warms my heart! <3  
Thank you! <3

You stood on the raised platform, your arms elevated from your sides as Melissa wrapped a tape measure around your waist. She tutted to herself as you watched her reflection squint at the number. Melissa had been your seamstress since you were a child, and her face was one of the most familiar, which is why you recognized the worry on her features.

"What's wrong?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious.

Ducking towards the notebook she kept on the side of the platform for the express purpose of marking down numbers, she didn't respond until she wrote down some notes. "I'm slightly concerned about you. That's all," she said, the corners of her mouth rising into a tight smile. Melissa looked at your face in the reflection from behind the spectacles that she kept situated on the tip of her nose, resulting in her standing there with her chin raised high.

"What is there to be concerned about?" Shalltear asked. Standing up, she walked over to you and took the space on the other side of you.

Looking over at Shalltear, Melissa said, "Well, (Name) has lost weight since the last time I saw her." She turned her face toward you before she continued, "Your waist is down by almost an inch."

"Is there a problem with losing weight?" you asked. You hadn't even noticed that any change had occurred and, as you looked over the sight of your bare arms, chest, neck, and face, you didn't really see any differences.

"I need you to tell me if this is something you're doing on purpose for the wedding. Because, if it is, then I'll need you to come in for regular measurements to make sure that the dress is fitting properly. I can't have it hanging off you," Melissa responded. She squinted at your face, the lines in her face growing deeper with concern. When had she grown so old? You looked at all of the gray in her hair. "Of course, you'll have to return shortly before I get the dress to you to make sure it fits and make the appropriate adjustments, but I don't want to make significant changes so close to the wedding if I don't have to."

Nodding, you said, "I understand."

"So," Melissa paused. "Are you losing weight on purpose? Because you are a beautiful girl just as you are."

You looked at your reflection again, your body clad only in the thin chemise and underskirt. When Melissa had asked you to remove your dress for another measurement, you assumed that it was only routine—that she wanted to make sure of your size for the special occasion of a wedding dress—but now you were not so sure. Perhaps she had noticed something about the way you looked in the dress you had been wearing when you arrived. They had been somewhat loose recently. 

"I'm not," you admitted and looked down at your feet, peeking out from under your skirt. You usually did not see them from behind the long skirts you wore.

She nodded. "Okay. Then I will make the dress according to the measurements I have here. You should have someone bring your dresses in for adjustment when you get the chance. You can get changed now, honey."

So she did notice. "Thank you," you said. Stepping from the platform, you headed for the couch where you had deposited your dress.

"I'll be right back with the patterns," Melissa said, heading for the door out of your private room.

When she was gone, Shalltear walked over to you and helped you with the buttons on the back of your dress. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No," you said and tried to keep your eyes focused on the couch in front of you.

"Because you've been acting strange the last two months, ever since the king proposed," she continued.

You raised your gaze to Shalltear.

"You have these horrible bags under your eyes now," she whispered.

"I'm fine," you insisted and turned away. Though you felt bad for lying to Shalltear, you knew that it was easier this way. She hated your mother enough. You couldn't tell her the truth. 

"(Name)," Shalltear scolded. Her tone of voice told you that she didn't believe you. "You've been like this for _ two months_. I have been waiting for you to talk to me. You were happy when you first got engaged but, now, you look half-dead."

Squirming away from Shalltear, you stepped back, and she let you. Her hand fell away from your face. When you looked up at her again, you saw that she was staring at you, and hurt etched lines around her mouth as she pressed her lips together tight.

The sound of a door opening drew your attention for just a moment and, when you returned to look at Shalltear, you found that her face was blank.

"I have the fabrics here," Melissa said, her arms laden with bolts of white cloth.

*

The ride back to your home was quiet. Shalltear sat beside you, but she said nothing, instead choosing to look out the window at the sight of the city as the carriage drove past shops and cafes. As usual, Alexandra was silent. You tightened your hands in your lap and said nothing.

When you and Shalltear made your way to your bedroom, you wished that she had decided against returning here with you. You had the feeling that she was not going to back down after your meager lies.

"I thought you were happy to marry the king," she said, sitting down on the edge of your bed and propping her arms behind her. Even though she appeared the picture of relaxation with her shoulders back, Shalltear's eyes were narrowed and focused on you.

"I am, Shalltear," you responded. Walking into your closet, you began removing the coat that you had been wearing to combat the late November chill.

"Then what's wrong, (Name)?" she asked. Her voice was somewhat obscured from having to reach you all the way in your closet. 

You put your jacket on the hanger and placed it with the rest of the coats. Heading for the doorway, you paused. As you stared at the rows of dresses hanging along the walls, you tried not to think about the way that your mother had barely spoken to you recently. You had done everything right. You were going to marry the king. The castle was constantly active with the preparations for the wedding and all the foreign guests that it would have to house. Already, the way the other nobles treated you had changed. Ever since the announcement of the engagement, more and more people were returning to their usual sycophantic ways. They were already preparing for all the brown-nosing that they were going to have to do when you became queen. Your mother even deigned to start showing herself at parties and gatherings again. However, she was still as cold to you as she had been two months ago when she called you _ useless _ and _ blundering_. Not even once had she asked you to sit in on any of the wedding planning. In fact, you had been sure that you wouldn't even be allowed to pick out something as middling as the fabric of your wedding dress. Perhaps you would return to Melissa's before the wedding only to find a completely different gown from the one you had chosen today.

Instead of waiting for you to return, Shalltear walked over to your closet and stood in the doorway. She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest.

You glanced over at her from the corner of your eye before returning to staring at the dresses that you had carefully organized by color and shade the day before, after your fingers started hurting from banging them into the keys of your piano over and over. If your piano teacher had seen the way you were playing, then she would have forced you to stop. But it was the pain that made you stop, in the end. You thought about the last time you had organized your dresses—that time by season and occasion—and realized that it was only last week. Now that you were considering it, again, perhaps it made more sense to go back to the old system. 

"I can't stop thinking about how awful I was to Gazef when we first met," you admitted the lesser of the two problems bothering you. This particular issue was on your mind last night instead of sleep. The bags under your eyes that Shalltear had noted were likely a result of those thoughts.

Glancing over at her, you were just in time to see her press her lips together again. But, this time, you knew that her expression was one of concern instead of frustration. She dropped her arms to her sides and allowed her shoulders to slump as she slowly made her way over to you.

"I was so horrible. I doubted everything that he said or did just because of something as worthless as rank," you said, your voice breaking at the end of your sentence. With your hands shaking, you tightened them into fists.

"Wow, I never thought that you would call rank worthless," Shalltear said in response, her mouth lifting into a false smile. You knew that she was trying to make you feel better, but you couldn't stir up enough good cheer to even mirror her expression.

"Yes," you said. "I agree. It's a rather out-of-character statement."

"Why the change?" she asked.

Turning your head over your shoulder to look at her, you shrugged. "I don't know. It's just random, after all. The circumstances of your birth. The things that happen to change it. I was royalty, and then I was just another noble. Now, I'm going to be royalty again. And I didn't really do anything to affect any of it. They were all things that happened without my choice."

Shalltear nodded.

"Even marrying Gazef—it wasn't something that I wanted. Not at first. I thought that I would rather die than marry him, lay with him, be his wife."

"It was a little overdramatic," Shalltear agreed with a small smile. She wrapped her arms around yours and pulled you into a hug. Accepting the proximity, you raised your own arms and wrapped them around her torso.

"And now, I'm poised to be royalty again. This time, the queen. But it was something that wasn't my choice, either. I know that Gazef would call the engagement off if I told him that I didn't want to be married, but my mother would never allow it." _ She _ ' _ s not even letting me participate in the planning_. You couldn't force the words from your mouth. 

"Is that something you want?" Shalltear asked.

"No," you admitted. You wanted to be rid of the burdens that your mother placed upon you, but you weren't sure if you would be, even married to the king and living in the castle. "Besides, my reputation would be ruined if he calls off the engagement. I might as well become a nun. No other suitable bachelor would ever approach me."

Shalltear nodded. "Women don't have that luxury." Pulling away from you, she looked at your face and moved her hands to cup your cheeks. "But is that really all?" she asked you.

You looked into her red eyes and saw them reflecting your own face back at you. Immediately, you looked away. "Does there have to be anything else? You, of all people, should know the things I said about him. All those horrible things about being _ bred _ and doubts about his intentions."

Walking away from Shalltear, you headed in the direction of the purple dresses you owned. The dresses that you thought you never would be able to wear again.

"It's so odd, feeling so anxious about all the thoughts I had and the lies I told while wishing he would return faster so I can see him again," you pondered.

For a few moments, Shalltear said nothing, but you could practically hear her thinking behind you. "(Name), I hope you're not thinking about doing something foolish," she finally said.

"Like what?" you asked, but you knew the answer, anyway.

"Like tell him."

"It's not as though he's even in the Re-estize Kingdom right now. He's visiting the ailing emperor of the Baharuth." you said.

"(_Name_). Stop getting off topic."

Crossing your arms over your chest, you hunched your shoulders inward. The thought had crossed your mind sometimes—often in the middle of the night when you were practically delirious from lack of sleep—but you knew better. "No," you said. "I made you that promise, before."

"You did," Shalltear agreed. "And you know how much I hate when promises are broken, (Name)," she said, emphasizing your name. "It would only cause a rift between the two of you. You were wrong. You know that now. And you need to just move on."

For a moment, you were silent. "I _ know_. I wasn't planning on saying anything."

"Good. Because it would only hurt him." She paused. "You might feel better for a moment, but then all that guilt will return because he would know for certain. People don't forget things like that. Sometimes, it's better to tell small lies or make lies of omission. If you tell him the truth, then all it will do is make him doubt all of the things that you say or do after, and it will ruin your relationship going forward."

"I know, Shalltear," you said.

When you made it clear that you had no intention of even looking at her again, she walked over to you and stood in front of the dresses. "I would like for you to promise me that you won't say anything."

"I already did," you responded.

She nodded, brows furrowed. "I know. But I would like to hear it again."

You pushed aside all of the things you were thinking and said, "Okay. I won't tell him. I promise."

Shalltear gave you another smile, but all it did was stir up those guilty feelings. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angsty angst rears its head again!  
Oh well.  
I'll see you all lovelies next time for the explosive continuation!  
Till then!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter!  
I wrote this chapter back in January when I was only on chapter 10, and I'm so excited to finally post it. I already have the next one written up, but I need to make some edits before it's ready.  
Enjoy!

You looked down at the letter that Gazef had sent you about two weeks ago from the Baharuth empire promising to visit you as soon as he returned to the capital. Today was the alleged day he would return as outlined in his letter, but the sunset was fast approaching, and he would not be able to visit you once it got dark. After all, it wasn’t proper even if the two of you were already engaged.

The little happiness that you felt at the thought of seeing him again was starting to ebb away.

Sighing, you put the letter away in the center drawer of your vanity where you had taken to keeping the letters from him. You leaned against the wood surface and looked at your reflection. Though today was not a special day by any means, and you had no plans to go anywhere, you had made sure to dress up for him. Diamond earrings sparkled in your ears, and the deep azure dress you were wearing was made for calling on or receiving special guests. You sighed again and stood up from your chair. There was nothing to be done. The road to the Baharuth empire was treacherous in the winter. You would rather have him alive and unable to visit you until tomorrow than dead.

Your sweet cousin Renner and your aunt had died in such an accident, and the memory only made you worry about Gazef all the more.

Idle, you walked over to your window and looked out on the estate. The trees were a sad sight at this point in the year, having already lost all their leaves. To you, the branches always looked naked with nothing to protect them from the winter chill. Some pathetic part of you looked at the courtyard, hoping against all hope that you would see Gazef’s coach roll into your line of sight, that he would exit it, perhaps looking tired from the ride over but ready to reunite with you after such a horribly long time away. You longed to ask him how the trip had been, comfort him to the best of your ability, and help him feel at home. While you would have loved to wrap your arms around him and hold him close, you knew that Alexandra would be watching the two of you closely, and you would get in so much trouble if you dared to even touch his hand despite the action being allowed within the rules of courtship now that you were engaged. Your mother’s strict insistence on propriety had never bothered you so much until now. The brief thought of your mother clouded your already cloudy thoughts even more. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the coach until it was already parked in the courtyard. Your heart soared at the sight of Gazef stepping out of it in all his winter finery.

You immediately headed for the drawing room. Perhaps you could catch a few moments alone with him before Alexandra appeared and spoiled your fun.

He was already seated in the drawing room when you arrived.

“Gazef!” you cried out, so excited to see him again.

“(Name). I didn’t expect you here so soon.” He gave you one of his broad grins, the one that made your stomach do a flip, and you headed for the couch on which he had settled. It was the one set in front of the fire. Thankfully, the fire had been burning for some time, and there was no trace of the usual chill in the room.

However, upon getting closer, you saw that he looked exhausted even as he casually reclined against the back of the couch. You wished even more than before that you could hold him close. “Oh.” You stopped short.

“What’s wrong?” Immediately, Gazef looked concerned.

“You should have just gone back to the castle and rested,” you scolded. “You look so tired.” Sitting down on the couch, you looked at him. The concern you felt was surely leaking into your expression.

“Seeing you is what makes me feel better, my dear (Name).”

As always, his words had your heart stuttering. “Gazef,” you whispered, your complaints forgotten.

“And, besides, I promised you that I would visit you.”

“I would have understood. You could have sent me a letter once you got back to the castle.”

He shrugged. “I’ve had worse trips. And I would feel too bad sending a page out into this winter chill.”

He was always so self-sacrificing. Everything he could do to ease someone else’s burden, he did.

“Your majesty. Welcome,” Alexandra said and curtsied as soon as she walked into the room. You turned to look at her, and Gazef sat up properly to greet her. Her face was as impassive as always, but something told you that she was annoyed with you. She must have gone to your room first to fetch you only to find you gone and then already here with the king.

“Good evening,” he said politely. 

“Hello, Alexandra,” you said.

“My lady.” She bowed her head and then headed in the direction of her usual chair on the other side of the room. From underneath it, she took out the basket of thread with two knitting needles sticking out of it. She picked up the needles and got to work on whatever she was knitting. You could not tell so early, and you were not so interested that you wished to find out.

Turning your attention back to the king, you asked, “How was the Baharuth empire?” 

“Solemn. The whole city is preparing to mourn,” Gazef responded.

“But the emperor is still alive?” you asked.

“He had been when we left, but I would not be surprised to find out that a raven had arrived in the time it took for us to get back.”

Was it really that bad? The last time you had seen the emperor, he was such a large, loud man. You could never imagine him weak and dying.

“Did you know him?” Gazef asked.

“Not very well. But Jircniv and I are friends.” You pulled the corners of your mouth into a weak smile. You did not feel much like smiling now. 

Gazef nodded but did not pry. “I have something for you from him. He asked if I could deliver it since I am your betrothed. It is a congratulatory present for our engagement since he cannot make the trip here himself.” Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a small pouch tied with a bow. It looked a little rumpled from the trip—the ribbon was wrinkled in places—but you were glad, anyway.

“Oh!” you said.

Offering the little bag to you, he waited for you to take it. Your fingers brushed his warm palm as you picked it up. The small touch you had exchanged only made you want to go further.

You opened the bag. There was no reason to keep the present a secret from your fiancee. It was a silver necklace with a red gemstone in the shape of a teardrop—most certainly a garnet due to what you knew of Jircniv’s preferences—pendant set in silver and surrounded by diamonds. The present made you smile. It was just like him to get you a necklace like it. A brief letter accompanied the necklace.

“May I see it?” Gazef asked.

You were surprised. He never seemed as though he were terribly interested in jewelry. “Of course,” you said. You handed the necklace to him. While he examined the pendant, you took a look at the letter.

_ My dear _ (_Name_),

_ I heard that you are engaged to the king_. _ How lovely_. 

_ Congratulations are in order_. 

_ I should have come to visit_, _ at the very least for the party_, _ but circumstances being what they are_, _ I hope you forgive my absence_. _ However_, _ I could not leave my beloved _ (_Name_) _ without an engagement present_, _ especially since so many of your Re_-_estizian nobles lack any semblance of taste_. _ I know you will absolutely love the necklace_, _ so I shan’t even worry about that matter_, _ but I do hope that my little present might convince you to write to me again_. _ It had been so long since the last time that my heart is absolutely breaking_.

_ With love_,

_ Jircniv _

When you were done reading, Gazef handed the necklace back to you, and you put it back in the bag.

The way that Gazef glanced at the letter when he thought you weren’t looking told you that he was curious about what the heir of the Baharuth empire might have to say to you. You offered it to him, as well.

“I wouldn’t want to impede on a private conversation,” he said.

You continued holding the letter out. “He doesn’t really say much. Just explains the reason for the necklace and congratulates me on the engagement. He also wants me to write to him again.”

Gazef looked at your face once more before he took the letter in his hands and quickly read it over. “You two hold correspondence?”

“On and off,” you said. “We’ve been friends since we were young.” You smiled fondly at the thought. “Mother was considering marrying me to him for a good couple of years, but neither of us was interested. We were much better off as friends. He’s actually the reason why I love dresses and jewelry so much.”

Holding out the letter to you, Gazef asked, “Is that so?”

“Yes,” you said absently as you took it and folded it again to return it to the bag. “He impressed upon me the importance of always looking my best. I was royalty. There was always someone to impress.” You waved your hand.

“And you will be again.”

The left corner of your mouth quirked into a small smile. “I think I’ll enjoy being your wife more than being royalty.”

“And I think I shall enjoy being your husband much more than being king.” Gazef smiled at you in return, and your abdomen filled with warmth. He always knew what to say.

For several minutes, the two of you sat in silence. You didn’t mind listening to the crackling of the fire with him. Of course, it would have been better if you could sit close, perhaps lean against his chest, but you knew better than to want something like that in earnest.

However, the silence had your mind running amok. You thought back to Gazef’s initial profession, one that seemed the least suited to him of all the ones that you had known him to hold. "How were you a mercenary?" you asked. Immediately, you felt regret for asking the question, but Gazef didn't seem incredibly bothered. 

He gave you a small, chagrined smile as he looked away from the fire. "Is your disbelief a good or bad thing?" he asked. 

You winced at the response. "Well, I certainly know that you're an impressive warrior," you said. "But I meant it in a good way. Or, at least, I tried." After another pause, you clarified, "You're such a kind and gentle person, it's difficult to imagine you being able to kill for money."

Now, it was Gazef's turn to wince. "It's not a history of which I am proud." He turned away from you to look at the floor, and his shoulders slumped, with his elbows resting on his legs. "I was young. And strong," he started. "Not a good combination. It made me arrogant," he admitted. For a moment, Gazef stopped speaking, but then he continued with a sigh. "I thought that I could make something of myself—make money—if I became a mercenary. My family was always poor. I wanted to live in comfort, for once." Gazef turned to look up at you. "I was content. I had a full belly every night, gold in my pocket. I showed everyone just how much stronger I was. People already began to fear me, and I was nowhere near as strong as I was now. I didn't let killing people didn't bother me. It was just a means to an end." 

You didn't know what to say. Despite his words, you couldn't see Gazef as young or cocky. And, even though you understood how a young man—especially one eager to prove himself—might be able to kill people, you couldn't imagine that Gazef could be so blase about taking a life. No. Lives. He likely took many if people _ feared _ him as he said. 

Turning to you, he asked, "Do you think I am a monster?"

There was something in Gazef's eyes that you had never seen before. He looked _ worried_—haunted, even. For the first time, you saw a vulnerability in Gazef. You hadn't even thought that he had any. For a very long time, you had thought him some perfect being, but he looked all too human before you. 

Without even having to think about it, you shook your head. "I don't. War is common. There are many men who have taken lives. And you can't give them back." Gazef furrowed his brows at your words. Clearly, you weren't good at being comforting. "What's important is acknowledging that you made a mistake and trying to move past it. Make up for it."

"I've been trying," he said. "I try to fight for people rather than against them. But it never feels like enough."

"Nothing ever feels like enough when we try to make up for our imperfections," you agreed. You were rather familiar with the sentiment. 

Gazef pressed his full lips together. 

You wanted to hug him, to draw him close, but Alexandra's presence at the back of the room tugged at the back of your mind and forced you in place. Did you dare? Gazef's hands were on his legs, half-propped up by his curled fingers. He looked so forlorn that you wanted to show definitively that you didn't think poorly of him regardless of his history. After all, he was not the only one who had made mistakes. Many men didn't even think of killing in war as something horrible. It was necessary. And they idolized the king for his prowess. With a glance at Alexandra to confirm that she was occupied by her knitting, you reached out a hand towards the one closest to you and curled your fingers around his palm in some sort of comforting gesture. Gazef took it without thinking and squeezed. His hand was so large around yours. However, the way he held it was gentle. It was hard to believe his words—even though you knew that he had been a mercenary, that he had killed people—when he was holding your hand like it was precious.

Realizing what he had done, Gazef slackened his grip on your hand. He straightened his shoulders and looked around the room to Alexandra. He squinted at her and frowned, and then looked down at your hand in his.

"She won't see," you said so quietly that you didn't even know if he heard you. 

From the direction of Alexandra's side of the room, the fire crackled. She looked so focused on knitting that you could almost believe that she wouldn't jump at the slightest indication that you were touching your husband-to-be. Thankfully, the back of the couch was tall, and she was sitting far away. As long as you kept your arm relatively close to your body, she had no way of knowing. At least, you hoped. 

Gazef nodded. He relaxed somewhat and drew all of his attention to your hand. Looking up at you, he tightened his fingers again and then began rubbing his thumb along your knuckles. The two of you had never touched outside of dances during balls. Gazef always kept a respectful distance, and you hadn't wanted him to touch you, at first. However, recently, your feelings on the matter had changed, and touching Gazef had been on your mind more and more lately. Even doing something so simple as holding his hand had your heart was thudding in your chest. What made it worse was that Gazef seemed so unperturbed. You could feel your cheeks heating up. He fully reclined against the back of the couch and moved his hand away from his leg so that it was less obvious that the two of you were holding hands. Just doing this much felt so scandalous. Shalltear was going to have a field day when you told her. 

"I don't deserve you," he sighed. The words were so quiet that you could hardly believe he said them. If it weren't for the gentle smile he gave you, then you never would have believed your ears. _ He _ didn't deserve _ you _ ? Your stomach rolled with his words. No, you had been so horrible before. You had thought such horrible things about him. All because of your pride. And still, your pride was getting in the way of your happiness with him. Even though you could feel your anxiety manifesting as a physical ache in your gut, you didn’t know how to admit to your shortcomings to him. Shalltear had told you not to tell him. She had begged you not to tell him. However, your guilt gnawed on the back of your mind constantly, especially when he was before you, being so utterly _ honest _ with you about everything he was thinking and feeling. Gazef did not keep anything from you—had never kept anything from you.

He was so _ good_, and you were not. Even now, you found it difficult to put your prejudices past you. You still turned your nose at the servants. Nothing had truly changed about you. You simply fell in love with the king.

You knew that telling him would only assuage your guilt, not add anything to your relationship. But the closer your wedding date approached, the worse you felt. 

How could he say that he didn’t deserve you? He deserved _ better_. Compared to your betrothed, you were a small-minded, little girl. Least of all, you couldn’t even be honest with him.

“No,” you said.

“No?” Gazef turned his head and tilted it to the left, away from you. “What do you mean?”

“You’re one of two people who has ever been completely selflessly kind to me.” Flicking your eyes in Alexandra’s direction, you hoped that she wasn’t listening or even trying to listen. “You’ve only tried to comfort me and make me happy ever since we met. You’ve never asked me for anything more than I was comfortable giving. You’ve never looked at me as a means to an end.” Tightening your hand around his palm, you could feel the stinging of tears. All of the things you said were completely true, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to be truly honest with him. 

Even if it hurt you—worsened you in his eyes—you wanted to be as honest with him as he was with you, so you opened your mouth to come clean to him.

But you never had a chance to speak. Gazef blurted out, “That’s not entirely true.”

You furrowed your brows, tensing your shoulders at the admission. 

“What?” you asked. Your lips pressed together as you tried to reel back your emotions. Another bout of anxiety was turning into something uncomfortable in your stomach. 

Gazef turned his abdomen to face you, shifting his right leg slightly onto the couch. “I,” he began but then stopped. This moment was the first time that you had seen Gazef at a loss for words. “Before, when the king—your uncle—had turned on the people, your mother convinced me to rise against him. I didn’t want to do it. He had been my friend for nearly a decade. But the things he was doing were unforgivable. It didn’t even take much convincing. The things that he was ordering us, me and his army, to do were _ wrong_. We weren’t fighting against an occupying force. These were our own people, and he had us hunting them down and slaying them. For nothing. For delusions." Gazef wasn't looking at you. He was staring at your hand. The pace of his words grew faster with every sentence. "He wanted to execute you and your mother because he believed that she had orchestrated the deaths of his wife and son to somehow steal the throne for herself. I couldn’t keep that information to myself. So I told her. And then she told me that she would supply the money to hire enough troops to show the nobles that I had a fighting chance against the king. She predicted that they would start backing me as long as I had a show of force. And they did.

“But she refused to back me publically. When I asked her why, she said that the other nobles would never trust me if they knew she was working with me. At the time, I didn’t think so, but having spent time with so many nobles in the last year, I realized that she has quite the reputation for acting behind the scenes. Of course, it is not undeserved. But I still thought that it would be better if she publicly renounced her brother and all the things that he had done.

“Instead, your mother had a different plan. She would do nothing for him, which did about as good as her joining me would have done—better since they did not think that she was influencing me. But she also predicted that the people and the nobles would see it fit to raise me into the role of the king. I understood why the people might want me there, but I thought she was wrong to suggest something like that. Why would the nobles want me on the throne? But I had underestimated how angry _ everyone _ was with the king and, subsequently, the royal family. The nobles decided that a fresh start was in order, and they suggested that I become king, instead. Certainly, there were many families opposed to the idea, but they came around to it, especially since the people wanted a ruler who cared for them—someone they believed would protect them.”

A _ deal _with your mother? The longer that Gazef went on, the worse the unsettling feeling in your stomach grew. 

“She made me promise that, if I were crowned as she suspected, then I would marry you once tempers had cooled,” Gazef finished.

You could feel a tenseness between your shoulderblades spread out through the rest of your body. “What?” you heard yourself ask. The word had passed your lips seemingly of its own volition. Within the last minute, you had learned so much. The stiffness of your body turned into trembling. When Gazef tried to squeeze your hand in a comforting gesture, you tugged it away from him, instead. At first, your hand didn’t quite clear the space of his but, when you moved it again, Gazef allowed his grip around it to grow loose. Before you turned your head away from him, you could see fear and sadness settle in his gaze, matched by the tightening of his brows and lips. You had to bite back a sob. You would _ not _ give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

“I didn’t want to shackle you to me simply because of an _ agreement_,” he explained. “I argued that it was wrong to force you to marry me. I’m so much older than you. I spent my youth _ killing _ people. I don’t deserve a sweet, young girl like you. Marrying me will ruin your life. I still think so. But then I met you.” His tone grew increasingly desperate with every sentence. You still didn’t look at him. You made absolutely no acknowledgement that you had even heard him, but you were quickly losing control of your emotions. Surely, you would start crying soon, but you didn't want him to see that. “And you were shy, and it was so sweet. You taught me about plants, but all I remember was how excited you sounded to speak about them. I was thrilled when you finally became comfortable enough around me to joke with me and tease me. I loved speaking to you about poetry and literature even if I don't indulge in it so much. Hearing you discuss them made me want to read more. And the way you played the piano for me was so beautiful. Everything I learned about you only made me love you more. I was honored that you asked for my advice when you argued with Lady Shalltear. And I was happy that you allowed me to support you in that time. When you bought _ The Metamorphoses _for me, I felt so flattered that you would take the time to select a gift for me. Every time I saw the book or picked it up, I could only think of you. I love you so much. I can’t imagine not marrying you. I had wanted to tell you about my agreement with your mother for some time, but I didn’t want to hurt you. I noticed that your mother keeps you always at hand, and I realized that you would be hurt to hear that the two of us decided your future without consulting you, so I didn't want to—"

“I’m not hurt,” you finally spoke, interrupting him. You had heard enough. Your eyes stung.

Gazef didn’t respond. From the corner of your eye, you saw him freeze.

“I’m _ devastated_,” you choked out. 

His shoulders slumped forward even more. “I didn’t want to cause you pain. I told her that I wanted to get to know you slowly, to make it as close to a real courting as possible. It was wrong of me to hide this information from you. If I could go back, then I would be honest with you from the very beginning.”

“Then why couldn’t have you been honest from the very beginning?” you hissed. The irony of your words dropped like a leaden weight in your stomach. “At least, you could have allowed me the _ decency _ of knowing that I was sold to you for your _ service_.” You could feel the poison you always tried so hard to hide from him leeching into your voice. 

Gazef recoiled from you as if you had struck him. Maybe the former would have been better than saying the first thing that came to mind. But he had hurt you with his story. You thought that he was the only person, other than Shalltear, who actually spoke to you because he wanted to speak to you, but he only did it because _ your mother _ had forced his hand. 

You lost the battle with your tears, and he looked torn between offering you comfort and simply leaving.

Instead, you stood.

“(Name), please. Don’t go. I know I hurt you, but—”

You interrupted whatever empty promise was on the tip of his tongue. “Please. Don’t bother continuing.” You could hear that your voice was getting louder, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Surely, Alexandra was listening to your conversation at this point. “However, it’s nice to know that we were made for each other. Both of us are liars.”

When Gazef grew confused, you helpfully explained. “I’ve been lying from the moment I met you, too.” It was so easy to admit your shortcomings to him now that you were angry and spiteful. “Perhaps you should have told me earlier, and then I wouldn’t have wasted months _ agonizing _over my dishonesty.”

“Dishonesty?” Gazef asked. He sounded worried, which made sense since he had no idea what you were about to say. 

“Yes. I was never shy before you. I hated you because my mother was forcing me to play nice with you to convince you to marry me. Me! A noble! And you. A _ commoner_.”

The corners of Gazef’s lips, which had been turned down up to this point, evened out. His entire expression became perfectly flat. He was likely recounting every interaction the two of you had, reevaluating them with this new knowledge in mind.

There was a quick movement from the corner of your eye. Alexandra. She hurried from the room, for once not concerned that the two of you would be up to no good. You knew that she was getting your mother. You would have to hurry your tirade.

“I was never _ sweet _ to you. At least, not before. I just kept my mouth _ shut_, and you simply assumed that I was being nice. It all makes sense now. I was just a piece of property in your eyes. I had already been passed along to you in spirit if not in actuality, so you could simply assign whatever personality to me that you wished I have. Shalltear had to spend _ hours _ convincing me that I would be able to stomach being married to you, or worse, being _ bred _ by you. The thought of carrying your half-breed revolted me.”

Gazef said nothing. Quiet anger and something else seethed just beneath the surface, but he still didn't even make a move to start forming words. You wanted to get under his skin, to hurt him as much as he hurt you, to see him lose control of himself. It would be easy to force this attraction—this mere passing infatuation—from your mind and body if he gave you enough of a reason. Even now, you still loved him. You could feel the twinges of regret blossom in the back of your mind, but they couldn’t win out against wave after wave of anger and betrayal. 

“But you tricked me into falling in love with you. How like a peasant. First, you _ stole _ the crown from my family, from its rightful masters. Then, you deceived me into agreeing to the farce of marrying you just so you can muddy the noble bloodline of the Vaiself.”

Standing, Gazef said, “I understand now what you think of me. Thank you for the clarification.” He was perfectly under control. Stoicism had replaced his earlier emotion, and his body was taut with the leash under which he placed himself.

A shudder went through your body. You thought that his words could hurt you no more than you had already been, but his quiet anger disguised with politeness had been worse. It had been so much worse mostly because it reminded you of the composure you could not muster. 

“Your majesty!” your mother gasped. She looked like she had run from her office, which was on the other side of the estate. Her chest was heaving from the exertion, and her hair had already started to creep out of her careful bun. You had no doubt that she had heard the tail end of your rant. “Please. Don’t listen to this foolish girl.” Words breathless, she stepped past the border of the doorframe with her head bowed in supplication. “She’s weak and given to flights of fancy. She says such horrendous, spiteful things to injure. She has even said such injurious things to me, her dear mother.”

You wanted to scream at her, too. The pain and suffering you were feeling was just as much her fault as his. 

“She does not mean any of it,” your mother begged. You hated how she was speaking about you as if you weren’t even in the room. When you opened your mouth to protest, she shut you up with a glare and the almost imperceptible motion of her hand slicing through the air. Her hand was near her skirts, and you would likely have not even noticed it if you were anyone else. A chill ran through you. You were being relegated to the role of a scolded child once again. 

“I think I should be going now,” Gazef said. He began walking to the doorframe leading out of the room and into the hallway.

“The girl grew up without a father. A strong, male presence in her life. It’s my fault. You shouldn’t blame her. But you should punish her. Surely, she’ll learn to hold her horrid tongue under your guidance, your hand.”

Gazef only continued to move closer to the doorframe even as your mother lowered you further. Now, you were a child _ and _ completely unaware of the things you said. But the worst part was that she was telling Gazef to _ discipline _ you. Surely, you could not fall any lower than that. You glanced in his direction, looked at the rigid cast of his back.

“As a matter of fact, you can punish her now! If you teach her to respect you before the date of your wedding, then you will surely have a happy marriage!” 

You could tell that your mother was growing more desperate to have Gazef stay the closer he was to leaving. What would she have him do? Hit you? Take away your prized possessions? Force you to beg and grovel to have them returned?

To your relief, the moment that she suggested Gazef punish you, he stopped and turned to look at her with confusion. Though he said nothing, you could see revulsion in the curl of his upper lip. He was disturbed by the way your mother was treating you and speaking about you. In response, your mother, at least, had the modesty to stop speaking. She winced, likely realizing that she had taken entirely the wrong approach. When Gazef looked at you, you saw pity in his eyes. You only grit your teeth. Without even thinking, you straightened your back and lifted your head, still sobbing, tremors shaking your otherwise steadily planted legs and trunk. He didn’t seem to understand what you were doing. You stared straight ahead.

“Good evening,” Gazef said. Then he turned away. The sight of his retreating form filled you with dread. Even from the other side of the room, you could feel your mother’s ire. She had too much self-respect to stop the king again. The three of you—Alexandra had witnessed your humiliation, as usual—stood in silence, listening to Gazef’s retreating footsteps.

When there was nothing else to hear but the roaring in your ears, your mother bore down on you, punishment in her eyes and on her mind.

You didn’t bother watching her get closer, but you couldn’t stop yourself from hearing the severe sound of her shoes click-clacking across the marble floor. White-hot pain blossomed on your cheek as your mother’s hand made contact with it. She had never used so much of her strength when you had been a child, you realized when you found yourself sprawled across the floor. Lifting your hand to your sharply aching cheek, you felt wetness. Blood stained your fingers as you moved your hand into the view of your eyes. All of your sobs had been banished from your lungs. You stared up at your mother, incredulous.

Her hand was still hanging in the air, and you saw the culprit of your torn cheek: the wedding band that had been a gift from your father to your mother before he died.

“You _ ruined _ everything,” she said, barely controlled anger pushing her voice from her lungs in a grunt. “You’re _ worse _ than your weak-willed father. At least he died before he destroyed my life entirely.”

Fresh tears started up once you got over the shock of her blow.

“You’re a _ contamination_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the end notes of the last update, I did say that this one would be explosive! 👀👀👀  
I would also say that this chapter is the climax of our plot triangle. (I'm really putting that "It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better" tag to use.) As far as low points go, this chapter is the lowest, and it will move promptly into the getting better.  
What did everyone think? :D  
See you all next time!


	26. Chapter 26

A week passed in your grief as you cried and wallowed in your beloved self-pity.

How could you say something like that to Gazef?

_ How like a peasant_.

Was everything you said tinged with judgement and poison?

_ I hated you because my mother was forcing me to play nice with you to convince you to marry me_.

Why would you tell him something like that and in such a manner? 

_ Shalltear had to spend _ hours _ convincing me that I would be able to stomach being married to you_, _ or worse_, _ being _ bred _ by you_.

You squeezed your eyes shut, covering your ears. But you couldn’t shut out the sound of your own words from your head. 

_ At least_, _ you could have allowed me the _ decency _ of knowing that I was sold to you for your _ service.

You regretted everything you said. Even though the knowledge that he agreed to marry you as a deal hurt you, your mother was more at fault than he was. She should have known that you would react poorly to being treated as an object to pass from her hands to his. Your reaction was not his fault. Nothing he did justified what you said to him. Would he forgive you? You didn’t know. All you knew was that you had to try. At the very least, you had to apologize to him. You couldn’t allow everything to end on such a bitter note. You needed Gazef to not _ hate _ you.

With another sob, you curled in on yourself, pressing your legs tight to your chest. You didn’t even know how to do it: find Gazef, approach him, and convince him to speak to you. You would not be surprised—or even blame him—if he didn’t want to hear you out.

However, every time you resolved to beg him for his forgiveness like the unworthy supplicant you were, the spiteful voice in the back of your head reminded you of the reason why you had said all those hurtful things in the first place. He had taken you as payment for more mercenary work. Had Gazef ever loved you as he claimed? Did he truly believe you worthy of his time, or were you just another project he had shouldered? You had thought that he enjoyed your company, enjoyed speaking to you. Why else would he spend so much time and money on you when you knew how frugal he was? 

Nothing matched up. Nothing made sense. All you knew was that your chest hurt, and your stomach turned in knots constantly. Your emotional pain had become physical. You were either utterly devoid of hunger—the very idea of food, sustenance, sickening you—or ravenous to the point of needing to devour considerably more than you had ever eaten in one sitting. 

Every time you closed your eyes, you dreamed of your mother hurting you again and Gazef turning his back on you even as you begged for his help. _ The two of them had conspired against you before_. The spiteful voice returned. _ She sold you to him in the same breath where she promised him a company of mercenaries to help destroy your uncle_. _ In one fell swoop_, _she had gotten rid of her pathetic daughter and bought piece of mind_. 

You had to lay constantly on your right side as your left cheek swelled and bruised. Your mother had not even bothered sending anyone to clean the cut or dress it. Why would she? You were a waste of time now that you were no longer marrying the king. She had no other use for you. Perhaps, she could sell you to some merchant or shut you up in a monastery. In the monastery, it would not matter that your face was ruined. You were certain that the tear in your skin would scar: it would be a permanent reminder of why you shouldn’t open your mouth before your _ betters_.

When Arabella came to deliver your meals, you completely ignored her. Admittedly, you always ignored her, but she would dwell uncomfortably whenever she saw that you hadn't touched your meal, perhaps hoping that you would change your mind. As you hadn't seen Alexandra or your mother visit your room to force-feed you, you assumed that they were assuaged by your inconsistent—if nothing else—eating. You weren't trying to starve yourself, and that sufficed. Perhaps, they didn't even care. You had no more worth. However, you didn't speak to Arabella even when your stomach clawed and begged you to ask for more. You wouldn't lower yourself before her by asking or even demanding another portion of food. She would know that your haughty demeanor was only a mask. She had also been the only person you saw all week. No maids entered your room to clean or even open the windows. The air in your room was stale. The only fresh dregs drifted in with Arabella's comings and goings. 

You hadn't spoken to anyone in all this time.

Awake for a brief instance, you noticed how your right side ached. You shifted to your back to take the pressure off your right, but it still protested, and you could not lay on your left without putting weight on your bruised cheek. 

You dwelled on your existence as you looked up at the ornate patterns of the ceiling cut into hexagonal shapes. It reminded you of a honeycomb with the golden paint on the insides of the hexes. Your life had been lonely before, but this week was particularly brutal. The longer you lay in place, the worse your lethargy grew, and the more you lost the will to get out of bed. You idly wondered if your mother would allow you to continue to waste away. She must have been truly enraged with you if she allowed you to engage in such slothful behavior. Though you had thrown temper tantrums before, none had ever been this bad or resulted in this many consequences. Your aching cheek and growling stomach were just two—though admittedly, the ones that came to mind most immediately—of a multitude. The worst consequence was the fact that Gazef likely hated you now. You could feel your chest heave even as your eyes protested your abuse of them. You felt all cried out.

Continuing to lay in your bed and staring at the ceiling, you recalled something important from your earlier string of idle thoughts: your overreaction a week ago had just been a temper tantrum.

The realization that your behavior was just a tantrum made you furrow your brow. This level of self-awareness must be the result of your severe isolation: the lack of people and distractions forced you to look inward. You thought more and more about all the things you had done, said, or thought in the past several months. No. Longer. The past several years? Frowning, you realized that your behavior all your life had simply consisted of moments of calm stringing together a long line of temper tantrums. And your mother had allowed them, letting you grow into a cold and spiteful adult, so long as you barked at other people and shook her hand when she ordered. She even tolerated the occasional yips in her direction so long as you made sure to lay down and roll over when you were told.

Shalltear was right: you were your mother's trained lapdog. 

She had nurtured your dislike of anyone different—of anyone not noble—and taught you to turn your nose at the sight of anything below her exacting standards, which she had conveniently passed along to you. You were never her child. You were her _ pet project_.

You were pathetic. Your entire existence had been pathetic. And you had never even noticed. You played your piano, and received your beloved dresses and jewelry without even a word about the way you were being treated.

Sitting up in your bed, you shuffled back against the headboard and picked up a pillow to place between the wooden object and your aching back.

Every part of you _ hurt_.

You looked around your room and then down at your nightgown clad body. You stank of sweat. Your hair probably looked like a rat’s nest. A bath was in order, but you didn’t even know who to address for it. Arabella usually arranged these things, but you didn’t want to go looking for her. The thought of the servants seeing you in this condition made your gut churn with shame. You would just wait. You would have to simply sit and wait. No one was serving you any longer—at your beck and call—and you didn’t know how to do _ anything _ by yourself. Drawing up your knees to your chest, you hugged your thighs.

It was unfortunate that it took you so long to realize how useless you were.

At the usual time when Arabella would arrive with your lunch, you heard another set of footsteps. You hoped that it wasn’t your mother. You didn’t want to look at her.

“Goodness, it stinks in here,” a familiar voice said. When you looked over, you saw Shalltear. Relief flooded into your weakened body. Arabella was behind her, looking relieved that someone else had said what she had been thinking. “Arabella, darling, can you please find someone to run (Name) a bath?”

From where the two of them had been standing, Arabella glanced at you, unsure that you would actually do as Shalltear was suggesting, and she looked surprised to see you sitting up.

“Yes,” you agreed. Your voice sounded rough to your own ears. What did you sound like to everyone else? “Please get someone to run a bath, Arabella.”

She looked even more shocked at your words, not just your gentle tone.

“See? I told you she would listen to me.” Shalltear looked at you, smug, until her eyes espied the bruise and reddened scab on your cheek. Her entire essence had shifted to outrage. You could tell from the way her eyes widened and the furrow that settled between her brows. She didn’t even need to scowl.

Apparently unaware, Arabella placed the food beside you on your night stand and curtsied.

Your stomach _ growled_. You could feel shame coloring your cheeks. “Th-thank you,” you stuttered out. 

“You’re welcome, my lady,” was her quiet response. Arabella still looked shell-shocked, and she walked out of your room in much the same way. 

With the door closed, Shalltear walked over to you. She crawled over to where you were sitting on your bed. “Did your _ mother _ do this?” she asked. Completely gentle, Shalltear grasped your chin between her thumb and forefinger and turned your head to investigate the scab. Her eyes absorbed the shape of the scab, likely noticing that it looked more like your skin had _ burst _ open and the surrounding greenish-yellow tint of the bruise.

“Yes,” you responded, voice hollow.

“Why?” Shalltear snarled.

“I got angry at Gazef, and I.” You inhaled a shuddering breath, suddenly aware and ashamed of your disgusting breath. Turning your face away from your friend, you continued, “I said. _ Things_. To him.” You had thought that you were out of tears, but they rolled, fat and hot, down your cheeks. “I was so _ horrible_, Shalltear.”

Out of concern for you, Shalltear relaxed and sat back on her legs. “What did you say?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She was clearly worried.

You buried your face in your hands and instantly regretted it after the pain in your cheek. Inching the meat of your palm away from your injury, you moved your hands so that she could hear you speak. “I told him that I hated him when we first met because my mother was forcing me to be nice to him. I called him a commoner. I made it clear that his origins were my problem.” Where you had been reluctant before, you were letting the words fall from your mouth like the bile they were. “I accused him of thinking of me as a piece of property and assigning shyness to me where it did not exist. I said that I couldn’t stand the thought being married to him, or, or.” You stuttered to a stop. You heaved another sob from your lungs. “Or being bred by him. I said he was a peasant. That he stole the crown, and he only wanted to marry me to muddy the bloodline of the Vaiself.”

When Shalltear realized you were done, she asked, “Why?”

You didn’t respond.

“_Why_?” she stressed. “Everything was going so well. (Name)! Why would you do that?” She pulled your hands away from your face, and you were reminded of the surprising strength that her small body contained. Staring up at you, her eyes were wide and disbelieving. “Did you want to hurt him?” she asked, incredulous.

“I did,” you admitted.

“But _ why_?”

“He told me that. That, before the coup, my mother made a deal with him. She somehow predicted that he would become king. She said that she would give him enough money to hire a company of mercenaries if he agreed to marry me once things settled down.”

Shalltear froze in her place. “He said that?”

“Yes.” You sobbed again.

“How did your mother even guess that?” Shalltear sounded vaguely impressed.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not important, now,” she said. It seemed to be more of a reminder for herself than you. “She shouldn’t have hit you.”

“She called me a contamination,” you whimpered.

Shalltear furrowed her brows and pulled you close. Her small arms circled your shoulders, and you leaned in close even though you knew that you were filthy. You shouldn’t have even been touching her. “You’re not. Please don’t think that,” she whispered. “She’s a contamination,” Shalltear added. 

You didn’t say anything in response.

“She is,” Shalltear repeated.

“No.” Pulling away from her embrace, you stared down at your hands folded in your lap. “I am a contamination. I said such hurtful things to Gazef. Shalltear, he looked so betrayed. I said that I was sold to him for his service.” You felt your lip quiver, and you bit down on it. “I don’t even know how to start making it up to him. I don’t know if I can!”

For a while, she was quiet, but you could tell that she was thinking. Shalltear wrung her hands together and furrowed her brows. Then she looked up at you and nodded. “Well, first, you need a bath. We can’t have you going to the castle looking like that.”

You looked up at her. She was calculating. Jumping up from your bed, she headed in the direction of your closet. She looked at you over her shoulder. “Eat. And then you’re going to bathe. And then I’m going to get you into the castle. And you’ll speak to him.”

Fear made you freeze. “But,” you started to protest.

“No buts!” Shalltear cut you off. “You’re going to tell that man that you were wrong for saying what you said. That you’re sorry. That you’re not going to leave until you make it up to him.” Her tone was so steady. She looked at you, her eyes traveling from your ruined cheek to your shoddy appearance. “You _ have _to do it. And I know you can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shalltear to the rescue!  
Really, Shalltear has to do all the hard work around here. srsly.


	27. Chapter 27 (mildly NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter gets mildly NSFW :3

No one, not even Arabella, stopped you from leaving the estate once you were clean, fed, and dressed. Shalltear had helped you herself, not bothering to call for anyone else to assist, because she didn't want your mother finding out.

The two of you sat in the carriage as it headed in the direction of the castle.

"Are you sure that he's willing to speak to me?" you asked her for what was likely the eighth time.

Shalltear didn't get angry or answer dismissively. Turning from the carriage window, she said, "Of course. There have been no announcements from the castle about the dissolution of your engagement so I think that Gazef has kept the matter to himself. If he no longer had any intention of marrying you, then it would make the most sense to end the engagement as quickly as possible to find a new, suitable bride." Though her words were very matter-of-fact, her tone was gentle. "I know you're worried, but Gazef is a good person, and you know that I don't say such things lightly. He'll be willing to listen."

Nodding, you forced yourself to stare out the window of the carriage. All of your anxious fidgeting and looking around had already resulted in nausea. Eating so much so quickly before you left likely didn't help at all. 

"We're approaching the castle!" Shalltear announced.

You only froze in response.

Shifting closer to you, Shalltear placed the hat that she had taken from your closet on your head and lowered the mesh gathered on the rim down, over your face. She fiddled with it as you stared at her face: the concentrated look in her eyes and her furrowed brows. Pursing her lips, Shalltear rotated the hat ever so slightly and paused to survey her work. When she did, she saw that you were staring at her. Shalltear smiled and returned her gaze to the top of your head. "Yes?" she asked.

"I just wanted to thank you for all you're doing. All you've ever done for me. I've just acted like a child this entire time."

She snorted through her nose and smirked at your statement. "Maybe a little. But you are very welcome."

"I mean it."

"I know," Shalltear responded and looked at your face in full. The upturned corners of her mouth cut into her cheeks in a big grin. "I'm used to being the doting older sister."

The fact that Shalltear considered you as a sister—even a younger one—threatened to bring you to tears again, but you looked down to your lap and blinked them away.

With the stopping of the carriage, you heard the driver get out of his seat at the front and open the door for the two of you. "We have arrived," he said.

You didn't have time to freeze and worry about the matter of speaking to Gazef when Shalltear grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the carriage. Because you were not prepared to be suddenly pulled from your seat, you almost tripped over your dress.

"Shalltear!" you complained.

In response, she only grinned.

"Lady Bloodfallen and Lady (Last Name), welcome," said the same butler that you had seen the last two times. "We were not expecting you."

"Good afternoon, Henderson!" Shalltear said.

"Good afternoon, Lady Shalltear."

"Don't mind us," Shalltear said as she continued to pull you down the path to the front doors of the castle.

When Henderson realized that she had no intention of stopping, he began to walk at her pace. "Are you here to see your father, Lady Shalltear?" he asked. "Because he has already gone home for the day."

Shalltear laughed lightly and shook her head, the movement whipping her hair from side to side as a result of her brisk pace. "No, no. (Name) and I were hoping to see the king."

Looking back to the sight of you, the butler pursed his lips and said, "He is, unfortunately, indisposed right now."

The news that Gazef was not available, especially given after Henderson looked back at you, made you immediately assume that you were not welcome in the castle. You almost choked on your breath with the stutter of your lungs. Every part of your body felt numb, and you must have lagged behind because Shalltear's hand started to tug your arm forward. Your legs struggled to keep up.

"And what is he doing, if I may inquire?" Shalltear asked.

"At this time, the king always spars with the soldiers of the royal army," Henderson responded.

Months ago, Gazef had told you about his usual activities, including the sparring. The memory of his pride at being able to fight for hours without any trouble momentarily pushed away your more paranoid thoughts, but you were quickly returned to the present by Shalltear speaking.

"I'm sorry, but it's really an emergency," she chirped. You noticed that she made sure to not specify exactly _ what _ was an emergency or why.

However, Henderson nodded. "Of course, Lady Shalltear. I will tell the king that it is an emergency."

By the time that they finished this conversation, the three of you had arrived at the front doors of the castle.

"Thank you so much!" Shalltear said.

"Thank you," you echoed. 

"Of course," he said, placing his hand over his chest and bowing. "If you will wait in the sitting room just ahead, then I will return shortly." As the butler headed further into the castle, Shalltear brought you into the sitting room and over to a couch. She only let go of your hand when the two of you sat down. Shalltear sat on your left side, which was closest to the doorway, and you knew that she was doing it to help obscure the bruise on your cheek. Of course, if someone really wanted to see what was on your face, it would take a little more than a little mesh and Shalltear's physical body to truly hide the shame of your cheek.

All you could think about as you sat in the castle sitting room, one of many, was what you would say to Gazef. You did not look at all of the finery strewn about the room: the luxurious couches and tables, grand paintings, and vases filled with painted branches and dried flowers. Even though the chamber was made for greeting and impressing guests, you did not feel welcome and, the longer you sat here, the more you regretted your rash decision to follow Shalltear. What if Gazef refused to see you? Perhaps he might be willing to make time for Shalltear, but why would he have any reason to listen to you after all of the things you said? If anything, you could even say that he listened to you for longer than any other person would have. Gazef had let you finish your tirade before he left and hadn't even tried to say anything in his defense—not after you began on your brutal honesty, anyway. 

You remembered the way that he had looked at you when you tore your hand away from his.

The nausea that you had almost forgotten made a sudden return, and the wave had your entire body seizing.

No, no, no.

You couldn't face him. Not like this.

Shooting up from the couch, you looked over in the direction of the doorway to the entrance and were about to head straight for it. But Shalltear must have been expecting you to try to make an escape because she stood up, as well, and took hold of your arm.

"(Name)," she scolded.

You turned to face her and whispered, "I can't do it, Shalltear. I can't speak with him."

"Yes you _ can_," she hissed. 

Although you wanted to say something else, you heard the sound of a single pair of footsteps. There was no way that you could leave in full sight of whoever was walking down the hall, so you gave up and returned to your seat. Shalltear remained standing, likely no longer trusting you to stay still. But you would. Whatever little fight had stirred within you was promptly quashed. The footsteps grew louder and seemed to turn in the direction of the room you were occupying. Both of you turned towards the doorway—with you expecting to see Henderson—only to find that the king had returned in his stead. Shalltear curtsied, but you didn't stand up. Though you knew that you were being incredibly rude, you could not make your legs hold you.

"Shalltear. Maurice said that you had to speak to me? There is some sort of emergency? Is your family well? Your father left the grounds only an hour ago." he asked. You felt both relieved and upset that he did not seem to have noticed you. Did Henderson really forget to mention you? Or was Gazef simply ignoring you instead? 

Half-hidden behind Shalltear's skirts, you took a peek at him.

Gazef looked. Well. Tired, mostly. Even beyond the ruffled hair and layer of sweat that he had acquired during his time sparring, you noticed that there was a general air of exhaustion about him. Gazef's shoulders were slumped in a way that you had never seen before. Even if his posture was not always perfect, he always stood up straighter than he was standing now. His eyelids seemed to hang lower, as if he could not keep them open fully. His voice seemed slower, as well. 

"No, no. Nothing like that," she responded.

"Then what is wrong?" Gazef inquired.

"I brought someone to speak to you. And it really is an emergency that you speak to them." Stepping forward, Shalltear didn't give you the chance to try and hide.

"(Name)," he said. His brow was furrowed as he spoke.

"Your majesty," you said and stood up. You fell into a deep curtsy before him, falling back on propriety in a situation where you did not know what else to do.

"You may stand," he said. A formality had crept into his tone.

Even when you did rise, you could not look back at his face. You were worried about what you would find in his expression.

"Perhaps we can find a room that is a little more private?" Shalltear asked. "I do not think that discussing such a matter with so many people who might be wandering around the castle is wise."

Gazef said nothing for a few moments even if it felt much longer than that to you. Then he agreed, "You're correct." Without saying much else, Gazef began walking to a right to your right, and Shalltear followed. You didn't feel that you had much of a choice but to go after them.

Once your little party had moved to a room further in the castle, Gazef turned to face you. You had stopped just after the doorway while he had turned around about halfway into the room. At least ten feet stood between the two of you. Gazef said nothing but, when you glanced up, you found that he was staring at you. Of course, his eyes were focused on your left cheek. The brief look you allowed yourself to take had resulted in Gazef moving his eyes to behind you, likely at the wall or whatever decoration hung upon it. You had never felt so uncomfortable before him. Before, you mostly felt anger or indignation for being forced to spend time with him, but you had never felt so much like wanting to disappear. 

Worry stopped you from saying anything. Even though Gazef had given you the chance to explain yourself, you did not even want to try from fear that you would ruin your opportunity. 

"I'll let the two of you speak," Shalltear said when it became abundantly clear neither of you were about to say anything. Then, she retreated to the room that the three of you had passed on the way to this one.

Still, neither of you spoke up.

You looked everywhere but at him: the floor, the walls, and your own hands. Meanwhile, the silence between the two of you congealed, settled all around like a physical entity.

You wanted to speak up first—truly, you did. But you did not know how to start. Possibilities cycled through your mind. 

_ I know that I was horrendous the last time we spoke_. 

No, too meandering. You should get straight to the point.

_ I wanted to apologize for my behavior_.

No, too formal.

_ I didn_'_t mean all of that_.

No, too dismissive.

_ I_'_m sorry_.

Looking up, you opened your mouth, and your lower jaw immediately began to shake.

Gazef pursed his lips, the very top of the arch almost reaching the bottom of his nose. 

"I shouldn't have. I didn't. I." You had to stop speaking. Discomfort had your entire torso feeling confined, like your corset was strung too tight. Forcing out a breath through clenched teeth, you tried to relax and gather your thoughts. "I'm sorry," you finally said.

He said nothing. Gazef's jaw shifted from side to side, like he was considering your statement, but he didn't even look like he was going to speak.

Even though you had been thinking of what to say for a significant amount of the time you had been sequestered in your room, you forgot everything now that you were actually standing in front of him. Tears gathered in your eyes, burning, but you didn't want to cry. It would just look like you were trying to guilt him into forgiving you, and you had no intention of doing that. You didn't want Gazef to say something that he would later regret. It would only poison what was left of your relationship.

"What happened to your cheek?" he asked.

"What?" you inquired in response. After everything that had just happened, you didn't expect Gazef to finally say something.

He stepped closer until he was right in front of you. Some part of you recoiled from the impropriety of the action, but the rest was happy that he was willing to stand so close. "Your cheek. You have a bruise."

You nodded. "I do."

"What happened?"

The explanation felt like another excuse, another way to make him feel bad and just forgive you without actually feeling forgiveness. You almost didn't want to tell him.

Raising his hand, Gazef allowed it to hover in front of your face. "May I?" he asked.

You nodded.

He didn't touch you—not immediately, anyway. Instead, Gazef removed the hat that Shalltear had chosen. Then silence spread between the two of you again. You wondered what he was thinking. In some burst of courage, you raised your eyes to his face. At this proximity, you could see the bags under his eyes. They had a tint of purple and looked rather puffy. His eyes, themselves, had red, jagged lines running along the white. You could also see that a few of the strands, mostly running along the side of his head, were silver. Before, Gazef did not seem so old or so tired and, now, he had become both.

Gentle, warm fingertips pressed against your jaw, tilting your head to the right and exposing your injured cheek. You knew what he was looking at: the fading bruises and the scab that had almost reminded you of a star, if stars were completely uneven and only had four arms. 

"Did someone hit you?" he asked.

You nodded again.

For a few moments, Gazef said nothing. Then he asked, "Was it your mother?"

Biting down on the inside of your lips, you nodded again. You didn't want to cry. 

"Why?" he inquired. 

"Because I. I ruined everything." Tears blurred your vision, and you lowered your head. Gazef let his hand drop back to his side. "I pushed you away. I said all those terrible things because I wanted to hurt you."

"You didn't ruin everything," he said quietly. "I certainly helped. I could have told you any other way, and it would have been better."

"No. What you said—it upset me, but I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you. My mother had always let me choose my suitors. She claimed that she would let me pick a husband without her interference. So when she told me that I had to convince you to marry me, I was so upset. I thought that I could chose at least one thing in my life, but it was only ever an illusion of choice. Even though I never realized it, my mother had made sure that I thought the same way as she did. I would never make a choice of which she would disapprove, so she must have thought that I would choose an appropriate match. However, her training was too effective. The way I was before—I would never have wanted to marry you because of the high importance she taught me to attribute to rank. So she had to force her hand.

"When you told me that she wanted you to marry me if you became the king, I was upset for that reason. And I threw a temper tantrum. But I threw it in the wrong direction. You didn't deserve anything I said to you." You shoved the tears from your eyes, irritating the bruise in the process, and flinched.

Gazef took your left hand between his. He let his fingers rest on the back of your palm, his touch gentle. His eyes studied your hand closely. "You shouldn't do that."

"I don't want to."

"Don't want to what?"

"To cry. I don't want to just make you feel sorry for me. I don't want to guilt you into marrying me because I spilled a few tears."

Considering your statement, he flattened his lips and twisted them to the left. Then he squeezed your hand. "I do feel sorry for you."

You winced at the statement. 

"But it would be heartless of me to feel otherwise when you're standing here before me, apologizing."

"And crying," you added.

"I suppose."

Gazef let go of your hand with just one of his and wrapped it around your shoulders. He pulled you to his chest, and you leaned against him with your right cheek while he let go of your hand completely. "I'll admit that it didn't feel particularly good to hear those things."

You couldn't help a laugh. "Only 'not particularly good'?"

"Maybe more."

The moment of laughter faded, and you nodded. You still felt horrible. You didn't know what else to say, but you wanted to say _ something_.

His other hand rested against the small of your back and gently rubbed up and down. "I thought that you didn't love me."

Pulling back, you looked up at him. "I do love you."

"I love you, too," Gazef said. He smiled even as sadness remained in his eyes, and it only seemed to intensify as the corners of his mouth drooped. "I think what hurt most of all was believing that you didn't love me when I love you so much."

You raised your arms and curled them around Gazef's torso. Being so close had your heart thudding. At this proximity, you could smell earthy scents and the sterile smell of sweat. His shirt was slightly damp under your fingers, likely from the sparring that he had been doing. But you didn't mind being so close—you could even say that you liked it.

"And I was disgusted by what she said. I couldn't believe that she could speak that way about you."

It took you a moment to realize that Gazef was talking about your mother. You pressed your lips together to try to force back the tears that threatened to resume. "I had never heard her say those things in particular, but she has said plenty before."

"She has treated you this way before?" he asked, his voice soft.

You didn't want to speak about your mother, but you nodded. "Ever since I was a child."

"I see." For just a moment, Gazef's arms tightened around you but, then, he relaxed them. 

The two of you just enjoyed holding one another. You didn't think about anything other than the warmth of his body and the feeling of his arms around you.

Then he said, "(Name)."

You looked up at his face, and Gazef loosened his arms to lean closer to you. "Can I kiss you?" he asked.

"Yes," you said, so quiet that you weren't sure if he heard you. But he must have because he then leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The gentle pressure made you want more. It didn't feel like enough. Slipping your hands up to his neck, you tugged him closer, kissed him again. Gazef breathed out harshly from his nose, and you could feel the shift of the air. His hands flattened against your back and readjusted their placement. The way his fingertips gently dug into the fabric of your jacket made the skin underneath tingle. You wanted his hands on you directly.

You didn't know what do other than keep moving your lips, but you didn't have the opportunity to grow flustered when Gazef's lips parted. Mirroring him, you did the same. Both of you deepened the kiss, tilting your heads in opposite directions and melding your mouths. You could hear the wet smacks of your mouths, but the minor embarrassment was washed away by the desire for more. Despite your lack of experience, you were certainly eager. Then Gazef's tongue slipped forward, and the tip pressed against your bottom lip. You opened your mouth further, and he moved the muscle forward. You hadn't considered that his tongue would be so much bigger than yours before. It was almost overwhelming. You had no reason to consider such a thing, but you didn't mind how to filled your mouth. The tip dragged along the inside of your teeth, exploring the smooth plane of skin. Opening your mouth even more, you encouraged his movements by rubbing your own tongue against the side of his. It moved to the front before turning to slide along the other side and then rubbing the roof of your mouth. You were disappointed when he retreated, but you pressed your tongue into his mouth and mirrored his movements from earlier. His mouth felt similar to yours but still unfamiliar. Curling your hands to grab at Gazef's shirt, you pressed your torso completely against his, but the height difference meant that your belly was pressed against his groin. Something that hadn't been there—or you hadn't noticed—earlier twitched. You rubbed against it even more.

Then Gazef pulled away, and your arms, which had been comfortably situated around his neck, stretched to follow him. You ended up letting go: the height difference was too great with him standing up straight.

"We should stop," he said, breathing a little harder than he had before. Your noticing of his shortness of breath made you realize your own. 

"I don't want to," you said, your tone beyond a whine and more of a mewl.

You watched as Gazef's eyes dipped down to your lips and then to your chest, which was still firmly pressed to his. Now that you were no longer distracted by the kiss, you were pretty sure that you knew what was against your belly. "I know. I don't, either, but we have to."

Relaxing, you realized how terribly inappropriate the entire exchange had been. If your mother knew—you had to physically freeze to force the thought from your mind. 

You pressed your forehead against his chest. As long as you could stay so close to him, you would.

"I don't want you to go back to her."

With his statement, you looked up and pressed your lips together. The relief that you felt made you slump against him a little more, but it was short-lived, and you immediately started thinking about the realistic side of the matter. "Neither do I. But where will I go?" Even besides the matter of a physical place to stay, you knew that she would not simply accept your departure. And even if she somehow did allow you to leave, you did not want to lose all the things that you had accumulated over the years. But what was perhaps the worst thing to lose would be the piano. It had been your father's before it was abandoned for some number of years, and only then did you started playing. There was no way that your mother would allow you to take it with you.

Gazef considered your question. Then he looked up, past your head, at the doorway behind you. "Shalltear?"

"Yes?" she asked from the other room.

"Can you please come in here?"

She didn't seem to walk for very long before appearing in front of the doorway. "I wasn't eavesdropping. I swear."

Gazef smiled and shook his head. "I wanted to ask you if you think your parents would be willing to give (Name) a place to stay before the wedding. I want her to just live here, but." He trailed off.

"It would be incredibly improper." Crossing her arms, Shalltear walked into the room and nodded. "I see your dilemma." Turning to you, she said, "Of course, my home is always open to the future queen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! Wow! Gazef accepted the apology! So weird :O  
And then hot make-out session. What needless smut! lol  
It's almost like needless smut was that entire reason I set out on this story. O///O


	28. Chapter 28

The grand sitting room—one of many—of the Bloodfallen estate was all around you as you sat on one of the luxurious, blood red couches, perched on the edge of the cushion. Beside you sat Gazef, at a most respectful distance, of course, but your hands lay joined on the space between your bodies. Your mind was wandering, looking at Shalltear's dark gown tastefully arranged on the cushions of the couch across from yours, the dark wood of the rounded coffee table that sat between you, and then the skirt of your own dress, where your other hand was resting. Still focusing your gaze on your hand, you moved it down to the cushion and dragged the tips of your fingers along the soft velvet of the cushions. The fabric shifted with the movement and turned over to the darker side. You frowned and moved in the opposite direction to return the velvet to its previous state. 

Gazef squeezed your hand, and you were forced to remember that the two of you had been sitting there, like that. You squeezed his hand back in an effort to force back any malingering thoughts that what you were doing was _ inappropriate_.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly. 

You looked up from your lap and nodded, smiled. "I'm fine."

When you finally brought your gaze to his face, you found that he didn't look convinced. His lips were pressed tight together, and lines cut into the space between his brows since he was furrowing them so tight. Of course, his face was only like that for a moment. Once you looked up at him fully, he forced his mouth into a smile, but it was too tight. 

"You have a very bad poker face when you actually care about the person you're looking at," you said, trying to tease. But the words made what little existed of your good mood to vanish. You were a little too honest.

The smile dropped from his mouth immediately, but he didn't return to the concern, which you appreciated. You had gotten enough concerned looks the past week from the Bloodfallens and their servants.

"I do," he agreed. Looking down at your locked hands, he added, "Perhaps you can sit a little more comfortably?"

You raised your shoulders and lowered them again. "I'm comfortable," you said.

"I understand." He nodded. 

Turning forward, you saw Shalltear again. She had been watching you. You said nothing.

The two of them returned to their earlier conversation albeit more haltingly than before, and you continued to look around the room as you had been doing. Although you tried to follow what they were saying, you could only listen to a couple sentences at a time about the condition of the kingdom before you returned to staring at the floor. You had all but given up on being able to listen to them when Shalltear spoke up.

"Name?" she said.

You looked in her direction. "Yes?" you asked.

Now that you were looking at her in full, Shalltear sat up in an attempt at formality. "I don't know what had been happening with your mother the last couple of months."

At the mention of her, you flinched, and Shalltear narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together. Gazef shifted forward, drawing even with you, and he let go of your left hand to wrap his right around your shoulder. You almost felt flustered—the reaction lingered in the back of your mind—but you were more worried about what Shalltear was planning on saying.

"And I should have known that _ something _was," she continued.

"No," you spoke up. "How could you have? I didn't tell you anything. I didn't want you to worry."

"No," she said. "I should have. I've known you for long enough." Looking down at her hands, she rubbed her fingers one by one. "But I can't change what has happened. I just want you to know that I'm here to listen or just sit with you, if that's what you want. We both are." She looked up at Gazef and nodded, with him returning the movement. Looking up at his face, you realized that you could see the line of his neck leading into his jaw. He shifted his line of sight to you and gave you a reassuring smile. 

"You can tell me anything. Okay?" 

Shalltear's words brought you to look at her again. All of the concern that had grown normal on her expression was filling her eyes, the lines of her face. 

Immediately, your instinct was to deflect. _ I _'_m fine_. You wanted to tell them. _ Really_, _ I _ '_m okay_. _ You don_'_t have to worry_. But you were tired—tired of lying about how you felt, tired of feeling like you were constantly on the verge of falling back into whatever it was that you did in all that time you spent alone. 

Your shoulders sagged under Gazef's arm and, sensing that you had moved, he pulled you closer to his torso.

He leaned in, close to your ear, and whispered, "I love you. And I'm right here. I promise. And Shalltear is here."

Although you didn't initially realize it, your entire body began to shake. Gazef's hand tightened for just a moment before he relaxed it. You allowed yourself to lean into him, your shoulder against his torso, and you felt the tears welling up before you felt the stinging in your eyes. Although you weren't sure if you were ready to admit everything to them, you wanted to, at least, tell Shalltear what had been going on. You knew that she wanted to know, even if she wasn't going to say anything. But where could you even start? The issues had started long before the argument that you had with Gazef. In fact, she had been steadily growing more hostile towards you for months now—almost the duration of your courtship. The moment her aggression towards you became physical was something that you had been dreading for about four months, ever since your engagement. You had simply hoped that you would be able to avoid her anger until the wedding, and then everything would have been fine.

It should have been fine.

But then you almost destroyed your relationship with Gazef.

The thought of how close you came to losing one of the people you care for most made you shudder and heave a sob.

Both of Gazef's arms wrapped around your shoulders, and you flattened your right cheek against his chest as you reciprocated his motion. You didn't want to cry any more. Ever since that argument, you had spilled so many tears, but your eyes kept making more. It seemed as though everything you did made you want to weep—even small things like the kindness you had seen Lady Bloodfallen show you, the happiness of having company throughout the day, or the pleasure of sharing a conversation over dinner. They were all things of which you had been deprived, and you didn't even know how to begin explaining the intense loneliness you had felt, living in what should have been your home.

You simply did not know how to give voice to any of the thoughts floating through your mind. Perhaps, you were more worried that they just would not understand.

Both Shalltear and Gazef had grown up in households full of people that they loved—except in the case of Shalltear and her father—and that loved them. While Shalltear had heard of the way your mother treated you sometimes, she didn't know the extent because you had never really considered the way you were raised. Living in the Bloodfallen household showed you how much more there was to family. Certainly, you had seen interactions—bits and pieces—in the time that you had spent with them, but it was different. And you were different now, paying more attention to the people around you rather than to how they interacted with you.

"(Name)," Gazef said. "Can please promise me that you'll talk to one of us? About anything. How you're feeling, what you're thinking about—anything." His voice was soft, just barely audible even though his head was so very close to yours. 

You took a deep breath through your mouth—your nose long since filled—and tried to stem the flow of your tears through sheer willpower.

"O-okay," you responded. Your voice shook even through the one word. "Just. Just not right now. I want to calm down first."

You felt—more than heard—the sigh that Gazef exhaled. His arms became less tense. Although you wished that you could say something to show them that you were talking their request seriously, you knew that you were currently far too wound up to discuss something that would only upset you even more. However, you slumped against Gazef, exhausted from yet another round of your tears. You felt comfortable in his arms—safe.

Then, you startled from the loud knocking on the front door of the estate.

Gazef pulled you closer.

"Who could that be?" Shalltear grumbled from across the coffee table. "It's getting dark already. Whoever it is should know better than to call on us at such a time." But the knocking only grew louder and more insistent. Any moment now, this strange guest would send the knocker through the door. The shift of fabric likely meant that Shalltear stood up. "I'll be right back," she said. "It seems that no one is capable of answering the door but me."

You felt a vague sort of guilt in response to her statement even though you knew that Shalltear was not trying to elicit such a reaction from you. As you continued to sit with Gazef, he lowered his right hand to rub your back, and you melted into him even further. The repetitive movement of his hand had you relaxing. Perhaps now you were all cried out. You wanted to be done with whatever this period was and move on to being happy. If you could be with Shalltear and Gazef, then you felt like you would. But you froze immediately upon hearing a familiar voice asking a very unfamiliar question.

"Where is my daughter?" came the shout from the front door.

Shalltear's response was muffled, but the fact that you could hear her response to your mother at all meant that she had raised her voice.

"I demand to see her. She has been gone for a week. If you think that you can keep her from her home, then you are highly mistaken." Her voice was all anger and indignation. You didn't know why your mother even bothered coming to the Bloodfallen estate. The last time you had seen her was the night of the argument. Quite frankly, you had been thoroughly convinced that she had abandoned you, but you supposed that your position to become the queen was still valuable, now that it was clear Gazef had no intention of calling off the wedding. You could think of no other reason for why she would even make the effort.

Opening your eyes, all you could see in front of you was the fabric of Gazef's shirt.

"It's okay," he said.

Although you tried to stay still, you began trembling, and your already tired eyes began to sting. You curled into him, and your hands tightened around the fabric of his shirt. You were most certainly crumbling it in your grip, but you couldn't relax your fingers.

Gazef's arms squeezed you for a moment before relaxing.

"Shalltear! I demand you bring me to her this instant!"

You could tell that she was getting angrier than before.

"I allowed this foolishness to go on for far too long!" 

Shutting your eyes tight, you bowed your head and pressed your forehead tight against Gazef's chest. It took all of your self-control to leave your hands against his sides instead of press them against your ears to try and block out the sound of her voice.

Lady Bloodfallen had gotten involved. You could hear the sound of her voice, as well. And Lord Bloodfallen was quick to follow up. Even though you wanted to know what they were saying, you couldn't bring yourself to leave Gazef's embrace, let alone walk over close enough to hear what was everyone was saying.

At least your mother was loud enough for you to follow some of the conversation.

"Abandoned?" she screamed.

You could hear the sheer indignance in her voice. Lord Bloodfallen had been the last one to speak. You wondered what he could have possibly said to anger your mother even more.

"You, of all people, have absolutely no right to speak of _ abandoning _ anyone after you impregnated my best friend and then left her the moment _ Lady Fellis _ ' _ s _ fortune beckoned!" your mother announced. 

"Excuse me?" You heard faintly, but his voice steadily rose with every following word. "How dare you accuse me of fathering Alexandra's bastard!" You had never heard him so angry. Whatever your mother said had clearly infuriated him. You had never heard any rumors about such a connection between your mother's trusted assistant and your best friend's father. Still, why would he react so indignantly if it weren't true? If your mother were to be believed, then Lord Bloodfallen had ruined Alexandra's reputation doubly. Even the breaking of an engagement was enough to ruin a woman's reputation but, if he had gotten her pregnant, as well, then she would be a complete social pariah. Alexandra must have been born of nobility—which explained why your mother trusted her so thoroughly—and she was likely disowned by her family over the affair. But it all made sense now: why your mother trusted Alexandra so much and hated Lord Bloodfallen, why Alexandra never step foot into the Bloodfallen estate. 

Despite how many questions it answered, your realization raised another: who was the child? You wondered if the two of you ever crossed paths. Perhaps the child lived alongside Alexandra in the estate, and you had never realized. And, whoever they were, the child was Shalltear's sibling. You wondered how she felt about this new information. Perhaps this information was not new to Shalltear. Her hatred of her father had always seemed out of proportion to you. 

"Accuse? I accuse you of nothing. You _ did _do it. And now you are hiding my daughter in your gaudy estate."

"I am hiding nothing! She's here willingly because her mother acts like no mother."

"Oh, because you are an excellent father with all those spirits you always imbibe."

"At least I never hit my children."

It sounded like they were getting closer. You jerked in Gazef's arms, and he looked down to you.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly. 

"She's right," you said.

"(Name)?" he asked, confused. His brows pressed together to match his tone.

You pulled back and sat up straight, tried to lean out of his embrace. "I've been away too long. It's shameful—what I'm doing. I'm hiding from my mother. I should have never left."

Gazef's confusion melted into resignation: his features relaxed and shoulders slumped. His arms, which had been so firmly around you, grew slack. "Do you truly want to go back?"

"It doesn't matter what I want," you said, panic rising like bile in the back of your throat. "I have to. I'm hiding from my own mistakes. The things that _ I _ ' _ ve _done. I have to take responsibility for my actions." The longer you spoke, the faster the words came out. Concern filled every feature, every line on his face. You looked away from his sad eyes, unable to handle seeing him look so worried about you. "What do the others think of me leaving like this? Of me living with the Bloodfallens instead of my own mother?"

Gazef gently put his hands on your shoulders and caught your eye. "Are you sure that you want to go back?"

Hearing the same question again made you pause. Some of the panic faded once you took another breath. Lord Bloodfallen was demanding that your mother leave his home immediately—saying that she is not welcome. You could hear your mother screaming at him in the background. In the back of your mind, you remembered the way she bore down on you, the stinging of your cheek, and all of the other times that she had hit you. You didn't want to return.

"No," you finally said, deflating. "She's already so angry." When he said nothing, you continued. "I don't know what she'll do or how she will react. The last time she was this angry at me, she refused to let me see Shalltear. She'll probably do it again. What if she forces me to stay at the estate until the wedding?" The threat of utter isolation hung heavily over you. 

Leaning close to you, Gazef pressed his lips to your forehead. You looked up at him.

"One moment," he said, standing.

"Where are you going?" you asked, starting to feel familiar twinges of anxiety. The sight of him heading for the doorway only made you panic more. "Please don't go out there, too."

He turned to look at you. "I'm just going to politely ask her to leave."

"But—" You started to argue, but you didn't have any real reason for him not to go. All you knew was that you felt bad enough that you couldn't bare the thought of facing your mother while three others were already standing in her way.

Returning to the back of the couch, Gazef reached out to cup your cheek. His hand was big and cool against your hot, tear-stained skin. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

"I do," you responded.

"Then don't worry," Gazef said and gave you a small smile. 

You wanted to say something else. It wasn't that you were _ worried _ about Gazef going out to speak to your mother. Instead, you were ashamed that you were unable to do the same. But he already walked away. His steps clicked against the floor as he headed in the direction of the doorway and then turned to the right, towards the center of commotion. 

Gazef didn't even walk very far until you heard your mother exclaim, "Your majesty!" She sounded surprised to see him in the Bloodfallen estate, as if she didn't expect him to be involved with this apparent plot to hide you away from her.

"Good evening," he responded.

For a moment, no one said anything, but then you heard your mother say, "Since you just came from the direction of the drawing room, I suppose it is safe to assume that my daughter is there?" Her voice was so close now, but you did not dare move from your spot on the couch in fear that the sound would draw her attention.

"You're correct," Gazef said. "Of course, I would not expect anything less from you." While his statement was a compliment, his delivery was too flat. Whatever friendship existed between the two of them before was completely gone. 

"Well, if I am correct, then I would ask that you allow me to go to her," your mother responded.

"Unfortunately, I cannot grant you your petition."

"And why not?" You could hear her start getting angry again. Whatever emotion she had reigned in upon the realization that the king was in attendance for her second complete loss of control was breaking out again.

"Because (Name) does not want to return."

"If she does not want to return, then I want to hear it from _ her_," she hissed in response.

"Your manner of speech towards the king is completely unacceptable," Shalltear piped up. 

However, your mother ignored her.

"I am under no obligation to grant your request," Gazef said. 

"She is my child and my property until the day that she is married. I do not _ care _ if she does not want to return. My word is bond."

"But the word of a king is absolute," Gazef reminded her. "And I say that (Name) can remain wherever she wishes."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because the way you treat her is completely unacceptable."

"You don't possibly believe her lies!"

"She doesn't have to tell me anything. I saw the way that you treated her in front of me. You claimed that she compulsively lies, but you were the one lying. You told me to punish her."

You mother said nothing in response.

Instead, Gazef continued. "And then you hit her. I suppose it only happened since I turned down your offer." He paused. "I didn't ask you to get involved. This matter would have been resolved much quicker if you hadn't."

"She was being a brat! She has always been a brat! I was only showing her that actions have consequences."

"(Name) is terrified of you! And it's not just this latest incident. You have been treating her poorly ever since she was a child." You had never heard Gazef lose his patience before. 

"Your majesty, convincing her of anything is pointless," Shalltear said.

"Says the girl who had been nudging my daughter towards rebellion since the moment she met her!" your mother snapped at Shalltear.

"You're sorely mistaken," Shalltear said, her voice sickly sweet. You could picture the smirk cutting the corners of her mouth into her cheeks. "I never 'nudged' her. If I had my way, then (Name) would have stopped being your lapdog a long time ago. But she remained steadfast. And she likely would have continued if _ you _ did not act the way you did."

"I never gave my daughter more than she deserved."

"No. What (Name) deserves is a better mother."

Your mother said absolutely nothing in response. You couldn't even hear anyone move in the hallway.

"I think it would be best if you missed the wedding," Gazef said.

"What?" she asked, complete disbelief filling her voice.

No one said anything else, but you heard heavier footsteps, and many of them, move closer. 

"You cannot throw me out like a dog!" she yelled. She continued to scream, but her voice steadily grew fainter. And then she was gone, the door closing behind her.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I feel bad for being a bum and updating inconsistently so here's a double feature! :v  
I had the following chapter written up from a couple of months ago before the rona happened and what existed of my discipline towards writing crumbled.

The six of you sat around a large, rounded table laden with pretty snacks and delicate pastries. 

Magdalene was describing her trip to a nearby cafe with Elizabeth and another friend of theirs in detail. However, the cakes, the tea, and the decorations were quickly brushed over in favor of a particular interaction that she had in the physical place of the cafe. Of course, what she considered to be the most important part of the trip was the run-in with a third friend and her older brother, with whom Magdalene had apparently been in love for the last several months. She then proceeded to verbally fawn over the boy. Though you had never heard of a Lord Peter Kitridge—he was almost a decade your junior at sixteen—he was allegedly the most handsome of the young men in Elizabeth and Magdalene's social circle. However, beyond his physical appearance, you had yet to determine why Magdalene was so besotted. Considering what little you had known about her and the significantly more that you had picked up over the last two weeks, physical appearance and rank were Magdalene's only concerns. You recognized some of your past self in her, at least, in regards to the importance of rank. Beside her, Elizabeth was trying to hide a smirk with her tea cup. Even though she and Magdalene were thick as thieves, she often poked fun at the younger girl's habit of going on and on, especially about boys.

Rolling her eyes, Shalltear teased, "Oh? I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention. Are you _ still _ on about Peter?"

"What do you mean 'still on about?'" Magdalene asked in response. Immediately, she tensed and frowned. Her earlier besotted sighing was gone as quickly as it had arrived.

"Well, it has just been almost four months since you'd fallen in 'love' with him."

"So?" Magdalene's voice started to sound just the slightest bit petulant and childish. You had become quite the expert at identifying her moods since you started living at the Bloodfallen estate, especially since Shalltear seemed to take great pleasure in irritating the girl.

"I was just thinking it was odd. That's all."

Huffing, Magdalene asked, "Why is it so odd, exactly?"

"It has simply been a very long time. For you, anyway." Though Shalltear quietly took a sip of her tea, you could tell that she was trying her very hardest not to burst out into laughter. Her smile was just a bit too tight, but her eyes were all mischief and sadistic joy.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Magdalene asked, irritation clear in her tone. Her brows were furrowed in anger, but she still looked pretty and delicate. It was strange how different Shalltear and Magdalene were despite how similar they looked. For as long as you had known her, Shalltear always had a mean streak, but she never directed it at you fully the way she did at Magdalene, likely because she had so much more fun irritating her younger sister. The latter would always hop to any provocation as if such an interaction had never happened before. She was either incredibly unaware of Shalltear's moods, or she was just too bull-headed to back down.

"I've just never seen you focus on one person for so long."

"Because I love him!"

"No, my dear sister. You are simply infatuated with him. Wait till you have to listen to him talk for more than five minutes. I'm sure you'll quickly change your mind and find a new handsome boy to talk our ears off about."

"Shalltear!" Magdalene exclaimed, scandalized. "I've never loved anyone like Peter! He's a _ gentleman_."

"Yes, like Harry before him and Liam before that," your best friend responded.

"You're horrible! You always say things like this!" Magdalene pouted. "I hate you."

"Don't say that, Maggie," Lady Bloodfallen said distractedly. She had the newest addition to the Bloodfallen family in her arms. The child, no more than four months, waved her hands towards her mother's face and cooed. 

"But mother!" Magdalene exclaimed. "She's saying things that are far worse, but you only react to me?"

Lady Bloodfallen glanced up at her Magdalene for a moment before looking over to Shalltear. "Can both of you please behave?" 

Magdalene huffed out an angry breath before angrily sitting back in her chair. "It's not fair," she muttered to herself.

Though Shalltear was one of the "both" mentioned, she didn't appear to be even remotely remorseful. Rather, Shalltear just smiled prettily and enjoyed her tea.

"(Name), dear, can you hold Priscilla?" she asked. She gave you a wide grin, and the child laughed at her mother's change in facial expression. You sat to Lady Bloodfallen's left while Magdalene was on her right, so you were, of course, the natural choice to hold her when Lady Bloodfallen had to go get something.

Nodding, you held out your hands to take hold of Priscilla before Lady Bloodfallen ran off.

You sat Priscilla in your lap and then arranged your left arm around her. She laughed again and reached for your face, running her small fingers against your cheek. Though you felt reluctant to hold Priscilla when you first arrived, you had now grown comfortable enough to spend time with her. However, your role in regard to Priscilla never went beyond the superficial. You hadn't been asked to change her or anything of the sort. Holding out your finger in front of the baby, you watched as she grabbed your hand happily and tugged it to her face to gnaw on the proferred digit. It felt strange, her gnawing on your finger with her gums, but she never bit down too hard.

"(Name), you already look like a young mother," Shalltear said.

"Oh hush," you said, cheeks warming slightly at the comment.

She laughed.

"Why are you so much nicer to (Name) than me?" Magdalene complained.

"Because you're a nuisance, and she is my best friend," Shalltear said.

"You're the worst," Magdalene responded and frowned at her tea. 

Elizabeth said nothing, but she reached out and patted Magdalene's hand. 

"Why do you never say anything to her?" the latter complained, the 'in defense of me' implied in her tone.

"I don't need Shalltear's biting commentary." Elizabeth finally spoke.

"But I'm your _ sister_," Magdalene complained.

"Your point? So is she."

"But she's so _ mean_."

"You bring it upon yourself by playing along. I'd feel sorry for you, but you always egg her on. Honestly, I feel like you're doing it on purpose most of the time."

Shalltear laughed at Magdalene and, looking terribly self-satisfied, took a bite out a scone. "Precisely."

"But I'm not!" she argued. 

Elizabeth just shrugged. Huffing, the youngest—not counting Priscilla—of the three sisters looked away from both Elizabeth and Shalltear, who were seated on her left side. She seemed intent on ignoring them for the rest of tea time. You just hoped that she wouldn't try to get you onto her side again. 

Lady Bloodfallen returned to find the table in silence except for Priscilla's satisfied burbling. 

"Ah," she said as she sat down, looking at how Priscilla seemed content to chew on your finger. "I was bringing her rattle." She offered the small, silver item to the baby. It rang, the noise soft, as Priscilla grabbed the short, red coral stem of the rattle with her right hand. However, the noise quickly became loud as she shook it repeatedly, happily kicking out her feet and laughing, the sound muffled. 

"You're so good with the little one," Lady Bloodfallen happily said.

Your cheeks warmed once again.

"Isn't she?" Shalltear quickly agreed. Leaning on the table, she reached out to pet her youngest sister's head.

"Shalltear," you complained, but you felt a happy kind of bashfulness at their praise. 

When you looked up, you saw that Magdalene was looking straight at you. Perhaps she was jealous that Shalltear was being nice to you even as she teased. Or maybe not. You didn't know. Magdalene was strange: blissfully unaware most of the time and then prone to insightful commentary when it was least expected of her. She pouted when she realized that you noticed she was watching and then turned away. You wondered what she—and the rest of the Bloodfallen—thought of your extended visit to their home, especially after all your clothes and jewelry arrived with a royal messenger a few days ago. Honestly, you had been surprised to see them after the scene that your mother had caused last week.

"The castle looks so lovely with all the preparations they're making for the wedding," Lady Bloodfallen said. "Like something out of a fairy tale."

You nodded and kept your eyes focused on Priscilla, who stopped gnawing to closely observe the butterfly broach that Gazef gave you on your first, official meeting. After the events of the last two weeks, Gazef asked you if you wanted to change the decorations or the menu since your mother had been the deciding force behind them. He said that he wanted you to be happy with your wedding day. But you didn't dislike the choices she had made, and you knew that, if everything were to be redone, then the quickly approaching date of your wedding would put too much pressure on a process that had already been rushed from the beginning. Ultimately, you would have preferred to be involved in these decisions in the first place, but the chance for that desire was gone. 

"Yes. It's starting to look like a proper royal wedding, isn't it?" you said in response.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you in your wedding dress for the final fittings." Knowing full well how you felt about the matter of the wedding, Shalltear steered the conversation elsewhere.

"Can I go, too?" Apparently, Magdalene was not so upset at her sister that she didn't jump at the chance of being involved in the wedding preparations. You looked up at her excited face, her mouth open in a wide grin and eyes sparkling with childish wonder. You also realized that you had been the one she asked. Of course, it made sense that she would ask you, but you weren't used to being the one who decided on what others could and could not do. It felt strange even though the request was relatively minor.

Taking your extended silence for reluctance, Lady Bloodfallen said, "Come now, Magdalene. It's a very intimate occasion, seeing (Name) in her wedding dress before the wedding."

Magdalene's face fell at her mother's words. Turning back to you, she said, "Please? I promise, I'll be good!"

You didn't really mind her being there. To you, the fitting wasn't particularly intimate. "I don't mind," you finally said. 

In response, Magdalene grinned. She instantly returned to her previous facial expression and said, "Thank you!"

Honestly, you didn't understand what she found so exciting about the matter.

Beside her, Elizabeth was looking at you, almost upset but trying to appear unfazed. She must have felt left out since she knew that Shalltear and Lady Bloodfallen were going with you even before Magdalene begged for an invitation. But she was too polite to beg like her sister had.

"You can come, as well, Elizabeth."

She gave you a small smile. "Oh. Thank you." 

"I wonder what the dress will look like!" Magdalene excitedly said at her sister.

Elizabeth immediately looked in Shalltear's direction. "You already know, don't you?"

"I saw the fabrics (Name) chose and the design that she and Melissa agreed upon. But I haven't seen the final product."

"I'm not worried about the outcome. Melissa always does a good job," you said. 

The excitement must have spread to Priscilla because she kicked her feet out and laughed, attracting the attention of Lady Bloodfallen to her. She moved her chair closer to where you were sitting and reached out to rub her belly, but she made no motion to take her from you. While the others discussed the design of the dress, Lady Bloodfallen quietly asked, "Are you looking forward to being married?"

You nodded. "I do. And I'm excited to move to the castle." It took you saying the words to realize that they might have sounded a little ungrateful. You backtracked. "It's not that I don't like being here. I do! It's just that I feel bad for imposing."

"You're not imposing." Lady Bloodfallen waved her hand as if physically dismissing your statement. "(Name), dear, you're always welcome here. And I understand what you meant. You'll be the queen soon. It'll be different, but I think it'll be good for you."

Nodding in agreement, you said, "I'm looking forward to spending more time with Gazef. With how busy he has been during this time, I've hardly be able to see him. But when we live together, we'll still spend at least some time together."

Lady Bloodfallen grinned. "The two of you are wonderful together."

You felt your cheeks warm at the compliment, and you looked down at Priscilla.

"I was a little worried at first when Jacob told me that the king told his advisors that he was planning on courting you, but it all worked out for the best."

At her statement, you thought back to the day your mother told you that she wanted you catch the king's attention. You never would have thought that everything would end up the way it did: you actually in love with Gazef and completely estranged from your mother. You wondered what she thought of everything that had happened. After your uncle went mad, and the coup occurred, she had still been relying on your new status as queen to take back her old position of power. And now she never would have it back. After all, that reason is why she tried to bring you back, however horribly it went. What was worse was that you would have gone if Shalltear, her parents, and Gazef hadn't stood in her way. It still felt so wrong to be away from your home and your mother even though you were happier here. However, you were not such a trained dog that you were planning on returning after she had made her disdain for you plenty clear. You couldn't forgive the things she had said and done the night of your argument—oh you still felt so ashamed of it—with Gazef. 

"What is everyone saying about the fact that I'm staying here?" you asked.

Lady Bloodfallen frowned. Her initial silence betrayed her reluctance at saying anything so you knew that whatever she was about to say was bad. "Mostly, the nobility generally agrees that your mother has always been a difficult person to get along with, and they believe that she did something to drive you away. There are rumors circulating as to what exactly happened—all of them ridiculous." She paused, glanced down at her lap. Clearly, she had no intention as to enlightening you of these rumors. "But a small minority, the very conservative among us, believe that you acted rashly and shamefully." Looking back up at you, Lady Bloodfallen continued, "I disagree with them completely. You are under no obligation to tolerate any of the things your mother has done to you, and I'm happy to have you here." As she spoke, her eyes flicked to the fresh line of the scar on your cheek. She smiled at you when she finished speaking.

You nodded. "I feel a little better knowing that most of them approve."

"And I'm sure ones who don't would quickly change their minds if they knew the truth. But there's no need for that."

Somehow, you doubted that they would change their minds, but you had no desire to make the attempt.

"(Name)!" Magdalene caught your attention.

"Yes?" you asked.

"I'm so excited to see the dress!" she exclaimed. 

"Me, too."


	30. Chapter 30 (mildly NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's mildly NSFW at the end ;)

"Don't get in too much trouble!" Shalltear said, a smirk in its natural place on her lips. "I'll be back soon!" She then walked away with her lady's maid. Even though Shalltear had promised that she would make some time for the two of you to be alone, you felt anxious now that she was actually gone. Your eyes kept looking over at the doorway, anticipating an interruption.

"(Name)," Gazef said, and you started slightly.

"Yes?" you inquired. You looked over in his direction. Gazef was seated casually on the couch, his arms flat on the top of the raised back and arm.

"May I ask you a question?" he asked.

"Of course." You tried to sit back in your chair and relax, but you couldn't will your heart to stop beating as quickly as it was.

During the moment following your permission, he said nothing. It seemed to you as though Gazef were trying to pick his words carefully. You started to feel your anxiety come back with a vengeance. You weren't sure if you really wanted to hear his question any more.

"Why did you think of me the way you did before?"

It was a very vague question, but it made your abdomen fill with now-familiar guilt, nevertheless. Your lips turned down into a frown.

Gazef pressed his lips together into a frown and furrowed his brows. "If you need more time, then you don't have to give me an answer now," he said. 

"No, it's fine," you said. There were so many reasons why you thought the way you did before, but the biggest one was certainly your mother. As you got ready to answer, you realized that your entire body had tensed, as if you were speaking to _ her _right now, and you had to make a conscious effort to remind yourself of the fact that you were no longer obligated to answer to her. As a matter of fact, you were no longer obligated to answer to anyone. You knew that Gazef would be fine with you taking your time. He just said as much. But you also didn't want to take your time. There was nothing to think about. You knew the answer. You had been living with it your entire life. Forcing yourself to relax, you looked at him. "The answer is actually very simple," you finally told him. "My mother raised me to look down on everyone. She would tell me to watch out for other nobles, that they only want to use me for my royal blood or my means. However, she was particularly disgusted by commoners. She looked down on some members of the lower nobility who married rich merchants to acquire their fortunes. She thought it was disgusting, weak. She always told me that anyone who lowered themselves to marry a commoner was a commoner in her eyes, and their children had no right to the noble parents' titles—that they were no better than thieves. 

"My mother also refused to associate with commoners in any capacity. She told me to be careful around the servants and to always distrust their motivations. When I was only a child, I used to play with my nurse's daughter. My mother was not pleased when she found out. She fired the woman and berated me for playing with a commoner girl. She said that I need to recognize my station, and that I will never be fit to be royalty if I act in such a disgraceful way."

When you started speaking, Gazef had moved his arms down from the arm and back of the couch to his lap. He was no longer relaxed. His entire body seemed to have curled in on itself. Though Gazef had been silent, he spoke up. "How old were you?"

You thought about his question. All you truly remembered about the situation was being yanked up from the floor by your arm and then dragged to your room. It was the memory that stood out most. But you had been young, too young to really understand why your mother was mad or why she hurt you. However, the new nurse—this one informed in no uncertain terms that she was not to let her own children play with the little lady—had been with you until you had become a woman. Though you remembered that the incident occurred shortly before a birthday, you were not sure which one. You had missed your old nurse and her daughter horribly, the girl in particular since she was one of your few friends. Then you recalled the memory of the new nurse telling you that seven was an important age, so you should not ruin your party by crying. "I was about six years old, almost seven."

Gazef nodded. He said nothing, but the brisk way he moved and the stony expression told you everything that you needed to know.

Because he said nothing else, you continued with your story. "I don't believe my mother has ever spoken to a servant herself. She always has Alexandra speak to them for her."

"But she spoke to me," he said. His voice was quiet.

"She said that you are an exception, a strong and honorable man."

Gazef's lips curled into a scowl. 

"She also knew that she might benefit from a friendship with you since you had the king's ear and were privy to his thoughts."

"Of course," Gazef said. He didn't meet your eyes.

You could tell that he was upset. "Would you like me to stop?" you inquired.

"No," he said immediately. "I want to know."

Nodding, you returned to what you had been saying. "And Renner had been much the same," you said with a sigh. 

Though he had been looking away, Gazef made eye contact with you at the mention of your cousin. Something strange made an appearance in his expression, but you couldn't place the source.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

"Nothing," Gazef said with a small smile and the shake of his head. "Please. Continue."

"Of course," you said. You looked down at your hands, which were laying palm-down on your lap. "I cried to him that my mother sent away my nurse and her daughter. But he immediately told me that my mother was right for sending them away because I should never dirty myself by treating commoners as equals. He said it was not fitting to cry over them, that I was crying over nothing more than spilled milk, when the reality was that the woman lost her job. And she had been a widow." You paused. The thought occurred to you that you were the reason she had lost her job. You had been the one who wanted to play with the girl who used to help her mother, and you had begged her to play with you until your nurse acquiesced. 

You looked up at Gazef.

"I realize now that they were wrong. And I was wrong for listening to them so blindly. I should have thought for myself."

"It's difficult to question what people you trust tell you." He nodded. "Especially when those people are people you love."

Breaking eye contact, you looked down at the floor. "I don't know if I ever truly loved mother. I thought I did. But she. She made it difficult."

Gazef didn't say anything.

You chanced a look at him. After saying all of those things, you remembered that Gazef loved his parents very much. Even if she had done all the things that she had done, she was still your mother. Many would disapprove of your words. "Do you think it's ungrateful of me?"

"No. The more I learn about how she treated you, the more I wonder how differently everything would have turned out if someone had interfered. I wish someone could have been me," he admitted.

You shook your head, but a smile made its way into the corners of your mouth. "I appreciate the sentiment, but no one would have thought anything of the way she raised me. The only thing any of the other nobles would have protested was her suspicion of them."

He frowned. "It's still wrong."

"Yes. But everything has transpired the way it has. We cannot change anything by simply wanting it to change." Directing your eyes back to your hands in your lap, you said, "I wish that I could change the way I thought of you at first, the things I said to you. But I cannot." You shrugged. "I can only try to change the way I think now."

Gazef sighed. "No, you're right." For several moments, the two of you sat in silence. The fire crackled nearby, the only sound in the room. 

"I love you," he said.

Your entire body froze at the words, but you did feel the same way. You knew as much. Heat bloomed on your cheeks. Still, it was far too embarrassing to say the words aloud, looking into his earnest eyes. Though you averted your gaze, you said, "I love you, too." Your words only fanned the flames of your cheeks, allowing them to migrate to your ears. 

"(Name)," he said, and you looked up. Gazef smiled at you gently. He patted the place on the couch nearby him—right beside him, really. Your blush did not go anywhere: the space that Gazef patted was just so, so close. Certainly, you had held his hand, kissed him, and hugged him—nevermind the day of your reunion where the two of you had enjoyed each other’s company a little more than perhaps could be advised for a couple not yet married. But his suggestion was improper! If _anyone_, save Shalltear, saw the two of you sitting so close, then they might think that your relationship had gone beyond what it should be at such an early stage. What if the information found its way back to your mother? What would she think? What would she say?

You had to remind yourself with a conscious effort that what she thought no longer had any effect on you whatsoever.

“Do you not want to?” Gazef asked in response to your extended silence.

“N-no, I want to,” you stuttered out. Goodness, you wanted to sit close to him so, so much. You wanted to feel the warmth of his body and his arms around you. It had been so long since the last time. Staring at the space on the cushion, you tried to quiet all of your worries and the voice in the back of your head.

Sitting down next to him would be _ fine_. You would just be sitting, not doing anything else. 

You moved forward and took a seat tentatively. Even though you wanted to relax, you still felt the rush of anxiety in your veins. As soon as you even heard the suggestion of footsteps, you would be ready to move further away.

Ignoring every part of your brain that was screaming at you to sit at a proper distance—to act properly—you looked up at him. You could see the line of Gazef’s jaw much clearer from this proximity and angle. Every little line and pore stood out to you on what was looked to you as the smooth plane of his tan skin from only a slightly larger distance. He even had an almost faded scar running parallel to the line of his carefully maintained beard. You were suddenly worried over just how much he could see of your physical imperfections, especially the recently healed scar on your cheek. You ducked your head. 

“Relax,” Gazef whispered, so close that you could feel the movement of air from his breathing and the word he uttered. The sound sent a shiver down your spine that you tried and failed to suppress. You hoped that he did not think you lewd for such a reaction.

Gazef leaned against the back of the couch and placed his arm back to where it had rested along the top. Following his movement, you reclined, as well. You could feel his arm behind the tops of your shoulder blades.

“Isn’t this better?” he asked you.

You nodded. His body heat was comforting. 

"I want to thank you for being honest with me even if it was an uncomfortable conversation," he said. 

Because you didn't really know what to say in response, you didn't speak for a few moments. But then you said, "I want to thank you for being patient with me even with everything that happened."

"Of course."

Leaning even closer to him, you looked up at him again. “I want to kiss you,” you muttered. But he was so close that he heard you, anyway.

“I wouldn’t mind,” was his response. Gazef shifted forward, closer to you, curling his arm around the shoulder furthest from him. You melted forward. Though you hadn’t planned on it, you lifted your hands to his chest and placed them flat on the solid surface. You didn’t push or pull him closer even though you wanted to move your bodies as close as they could together, and you pressed your lips to his in what you had meant to be a chaste kiss, a simple peck. But neither of you moved away even as the first peck concluded and then swiftly moved into the other until your lips were slick with saliva—you were not sure if it was yours or Gazef’s—and your mouths were parted. You felt slightly more confident this time. Even though you knew that Gazef was patient, you wanted him to enjoy himself just as much as you were. Last time, he had shoved his tongue into your mouth, and you wanted him to do it again.

Slowly, you slid your hands up to his neck and wrapped them loosely around it. 

An ache settled between your legs. You squirmed in place. Even though you wanted Gazef to touch you there, the thought of even suggesting something like that made you ashamed of your licentiousness.

But you did inadvertently dig your nails into his neck when Gazef deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around your torso and his tongue slipping into your eager mouth. The muscle was too big, but you felt the same exhilaration as before from being _ almost _ overwhelmed by him. By this point, neither of you were concerned with anyone stumbling upon you in the secluded corner of the drawing room. Your torsos were drawn close together, and you felt surrounded by Gazef’s large arms. There was a slight tug in your back from being positioned so awkwardly, but you ignored it in favor of continuing what you were doing. You pulled Gazef closer, the fingers of your right hand tangling in as much of the thick hair at the base of his skull as you could reach. He groaned into your mouth. It sounded almost _ ragged_, the way it tore from deep inside his chest. He pulled back, embarrassed, likely by the noise that had escaped him.

Gazef pressed his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes. You could feel the breath from his nose on your face. “We should stop,” he whispered.

“We should,” you agreed. But you didn’t want to stop. You wanted to keep going. Of course, you would not move past _ kissing_, not seated on the Bloodfallens’ couch, but you wanted to, at least, keep kissing him. “But I don’t want to,” you admitted.

His lips spread into a grin. “Neither do I,” Gazef said. He seemed happy that you were reciprocating his desires. He pressed one more kiss to your lips, this time keeping it chaste, and leaned away from you. Though you were reluctant to release him from your hold, you let him move back. As it were, the fact that no one found you canoodling in this room was a miracle. 

But, when you glanced down into Gazef’s lap, you saw something that you hadn’t seen before. There was a protuberance along what had been the flat of his thigh. It was _ long _ and _ wide_.

The ache between your legs only grew more intense. 

Gazef coughed when he noticed you noticing it, and he lifted his right leg to cross it over the knee of his left. Though he hadn’t succeeded in hiding it from you, you looked away in embarrassment.

“I apologize, (Name),” he said. “I got. Carried away.”

You were still looking at the floor when you responded. “Please. Don’t worry about me.” Images of you reaching out, touching him, and kissing him again flashed through your mind.

Was it wrong of you to want more even though the two of you were not yet married?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Countdown to the wedding begins!  
It'll be on chapter 33! :D


	31. Chapter 31

As you walked through the castle to the usual sitting room where the three of you would meet, chat, and drink some tea, you couldn't help but think about what happened the last time you and Gazef were alone. Not even the cool air in the hallway could distract you from the overwhelming warmth in your cheeks. Of course, you didn't expect the same thing to happen again. Shalltear might be willing to disappear for an hour, but the castle hired far more servants than the Bloodfallen estate, and they would certainly be much more active—especially now that the wedding was drawing so close—during the busy hours of the day. Having someone walk in on the two of you engaged in such an intimate act would result in more humiliation than you could bear. 

Even so, your body warmed at the thought of being so close to Gazef again. You wanted him so close to you, holding you, kissing you. Though you knew what happened _ after _ the kissing, you didn't know what it would look or feel like, and you had never been interested before. The fact that you were even wondering at all was completely improper. But you didn't want to listen to that side of yourself. You _ enjoyed _ all the things you were feeling. And you wanted to enjoy them. 

Instead of meandering among your thoughts, you focused on Shalltear. "Might you be getting married soon?" you asked, bumping your shoulder against hers.

She grinned wide, the corners of her mouth cutting into her cheeks at the thought of her beloved Lord Gown. "I don't know," she finally said, the grin dimming some. "Lord Gown does not appear to be interested in marrying, and my parents are starting to to worry that I will never find a husband. What they don't understand is that the eligible bachelors have all been found wanting when compared to him. I couldn't possibly lower myself to becoming their doting, little wife." At the end of her thoughts, her tone was filled with disdain. 

"I know what you mean," you said. You had discounted all of your previous suitors for one reason or another before the coup and, looking back to all of your interactions, you liked none of them nearly as much as you liked Gazef, even simply as friends. 

Shalltear sighed and patted the arm of yours around which her own was looped. "It's too bad that you weren't born a gentleman, my dear. I would have eagerly married you," she said with a grin. 

You smiled in turn and laughed. "I can say the same for you."

"I wonder who would have been more handsome!" She laughed in delight, and you joined her. 

As the two of you continued walking, you ran into a person of whom you had heard extensively but never seen. Perhaps you wouldn't have paid much attention to him, an otherwise perfect stranger, if it weren't for the bizarre, bright blue of his hair.

Brain bowed politely in front of the two of you, but the politeness of his body language did not match his facial expression. He looked at you as if he found the very action to be unpleasant. Immediately, the earlier lightness of your mood was gone, but both you and Shalltear nodded to him. Matters of rank dictated that you did not need to curtsy. Without him needing to say anything, you felt as though you had done something to slight him, but you did not know what the action could have possibly been. The three of you stood around in uncomfortable silence. Perhaps Shalltear might be convinced to leave before anything truly happened. You looked down to her to find that the set of her expression—tight smile, narrowed eyes—said anything but being open to an expedient exit. 

"You're Brain Unglaus, aren't you? The _ second _ strongest warrior of our dear kingdom?" Shalltear asked. She sounded terribly polite, which she often wasn't. You realized that she must have noticed his barely veiled dislike, and she was planning on doing something about it.

"You're correct," he said. "And you're Lady Shalltear Bloodfallen, the daughter of our king's financial advisor." The amount of information that he said so easily was not accidental. He wanted to show Shalltear that he was not going to be intimidated by her.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but we should go," you said. You tugged on Shalltear’s arm, but she acted as if she didn’t notice. "The king is expecting us."

Instead, he turned to you. "And you're Lady (Name) (Surname), the betrothed of my friend, the current king, as well as the niece of the former king."

"Indeed I am," you responded. Nodding, you looked behind him, trying to see if there were anyone else in the hallway who could help you out of this increasingly uncomfortable situation. Ideally, Gazef would choose this moment to walk in and diffuse whatever this interaction was becoming, but he was no where to be seen, and Shalltear was completely ignoring your attempts to pull her along. 

"We're at quite the disadvantage," Shalltear said. "You know so much about us, but our knowledge of you is purely surface-level."

Brain smirked and shrugged. "Why would two _ noble _ ladies such as yourself know anything about a _ commoner _ like me?" he asked. Despite his continued polite tone, his words were heavily barbed. "Even you knowing my name is an honor. _ Truly_."

You froze.

Now, you knew why he was acting in such a way. Gazef had told you that Brain was his friend. It stood to reason that he had confided in him after you argued, especially considering the scale of the argument. However, you did not know the extent of his knowledge: much was said that night and not all of it by you. Perhaps he even knew that your mother humiliated herself before the king that night, as well. You felt ashamed that another person knew what happened—more ashamed that you had said what you said. No longer did you feel like indulging in tea and conversation; you simply wanted to return to the Bloodfallen estate.

But then you realized that, if Brain were regularly spending time at the castle or even living there, then you would likely see him around—and perhaps even often—after moving there permanently. The thought made you feel even worse. 

Unfortunately, Shalltear also knew exactly to what he was referring. Her eyes narrowed for just a moment before she smiled. However, her smile was dangerous, a little too wide and a little too pointy. Brain must have come to the same conclusion because he shifted in place, squaring his shoulders. Though he did not possess Gazef's militaristic posture, he was still a warrior, and he looked like he was, at least, mentally preparing himself for the war into which he had stumbled.

“However, as you said, you are a friend to the king in addition to being the second strongest warrior. That position places you as someone who we ought to get to know. And, considering that you do not spend much time in the public eye, this afternoon might just be one of our few opportunities,” Shalltear said. She shifted in front of you, the movement insignificant to anyone else, but you realized that she moved to stand slightly in front of you—as if some guard against Brain. Where before Shalltear was by your side, she now stood with her right shoulder and that part of her body in front of you. You did not think it necessary. However much Brain disliked you, there was no need for her to physically stand in his way.

“I live in the castle,” he responded. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to get to know me without my infringing upon your plans for afternoon tea.” Once the words had passed his lips, he frowned. Brain must have realized—too late—that he had given Shalltear more information than he originally planned, but you had to wonder what he hadn't been willing to share. It was likely not the fact that he lived in the castle since you would have eventually confirmed this information, anyway. The wedding was in less than a week. Then, since it was not the former, the only conclusion was that he did not mean to mention that he knew about your plans for the day. Gazef must have told him. 

You internally despaired: now you would have to live with someone else who clearly disliked you.

Grinning, Shalltear showed her teeth.

Brain flinched slightly at her expression.

“I’m glad to hear it. But I never saw the point of putting off something for tomorrow that you can do today. I would love to hear more about you now. And, as we are waiting for the king to finish his meeting with his advisors, we have nothing to entertain ourselves with.”

In response, he shifted his weight to one leg, leaned his right arm on his sword, and narrowed his eyes. Brain clearly wanted to appear nonchalant even if he were not. “I apologize, but I am a dull sort compared to your usual, cultured entertainments. I can offer no worthy way of passing the time for two, _ refined _ladies such as yourselves.”

“Oh, do not worry about us. We don’t mind _ condescending _from time to time.” Shalltear practically hissed the word out.

“Yes, my lady, I can certainly see that you are.” Brain refused to bend.

You worried that the two of them might come to blows since neither of them was gaining any ground in the verbal battlefield. Looking down the two sides of the hallway, you hoped for the sight of anyone. Gazef didn’t even need to arrive. As sorry as you felt for anyone that you would have to rope into this interaction, you wanted more for it to end. Unfortunately, the doorways were utterly devoid of people, which was strange enough by itself. You often saw servants running around the castle. But there was no one today—of all days.

Shalltear no longer pretended to look pleasant as she spoke. “You forget yourself.”

“No. My lady. I assure you that I am quite aware of my position before two noblewomen.” His eyes flicked to you.

Shalltear took another half-step in front of you. She didn’t even bother making her protectiveness over you subtle. “Then you ought to act as if you are.”

“What part of my behavior displeases you, my lady?” he asked, his eyes trained on you before he bowed low. “ Especially you, Lady (Name), you have been awfully quiet this entire time. You ought to let me know how to improve so that I can correct myself before you take up permanent residence at the castle to avoid upsetting you again. After all, I am merely a guest, but you will be queen.”

You winced, unable to keep your discomfort from your face. Instead of responding, you looked down at the floor. At least, you could focus on something other than the fact that you wanted to cry.

Shalltear stepped directly in front of you. “Do not insult us by pretending to grovel.”

“Then what should I do, my lady?”

“Removing yourself from my sight would be an excellent first step,” Shalltear said.

Brain raised his eyebrows as if in shock. “I was not aware that my simple presence offended so.”

“I’m glad to inform you.”

The two of them stared daggers at each other.

From behind you, the blissful sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway. You turned around to find Gazef upon your little party. Relief surged through you, and the tenuous grip you had on your tears wavered. He grinned, completely unaware of the brewing war between two of his friends, and said, “(Name)! Shalltear! Excellent. I was just looking for you. Shall we proceed to the drawing room for tea? And Brain! Will you join us?”

Before turning to Gazef, Shalltear had to reign herself in with two deep breaths. She turned around and stepped out from behind you, her eyes still full of anger, then curtsied. You followed her example. “Your majesty. How kind of you to join us,” she said, voice sickly sweet.

Gazef hesitated and stopped walking. His eyes wandered from your expression to Shalltear’s, and then behind you to Brain’s, before returning to you. You tried to smile, to pretend that you weren’t about to dissolve into tears. Perhaps if you pretended enough, they would simply disappear. The smile on his face dissipated gradually as he realized that not all was well. You could see the change taking place.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

You averted your eyes from him.

“Nothing, your majesty,” Shalltear said. “Nothing at all.”

“Yes. Lady Shalltear is correct. Nothing is the matter,” Brain said from behind you. “However, I have to decline your gracious invitation to tea. I worry that my _ lowly _ presence would only disturb the two _ noble _ ladies you have accompanying you today.”

Gazef’s blank expression collapsed into a confused mixture of regret and anger before it returned to its earlier state. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he simply nodded. You heard the sound of Brain walking away. When Gazef looked at you, he looked like he wanted to apologize, but you instead finally spoke up. 

“It was so good to meet your friend after hearing so much about him from you. He truly lived up to all your praise.”

As you spoke, your voice shook, and tears started to sting your eyes.

Opening his mouth, Gazef paused. Then he closed it. “I’m glad you were able to meet him,” he responded.

It seemed that he was going to go along with your facade. From the corner of your eye, you saw the shame on Shalltear’s face. She turned her face away from you shortly after she noticed you looking.

The three of you stood in the hallway, unable to meet each other’s eyes.

It was inevitable, really, that Gazef had spoken to somebody about your argument, the things you said. And you didn’t blame him for the way Brain spoke to you. You didn't even blame Brain for how he spoke to you. He did have a point. Instead, you felt an overwhelming sense of shame for your words and the mindset behind them. You weren’t upset with Brain. You were upset with yourself.

Try as much as you did, you could not force the tears back. They came before you had the ability to react and press your nails into your palm. But the liquid only filled your eyes. It did not overflow. And while you disliked the watery, itchy sensation, you did not want to draw attention to your weepiness by rubbing the gathered tears away.

“We should go,” Gazef was the first to speak. “The tea is getting cold without us.”

“You’re absolutely right,” you said. “Lead the way.” At least your voice stayed strong this time.

When your companions, first Gazef and then Shalltear, walked past you in the direction of the drawing room, you finally rubbed away the tears before falling into step behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Brain's not wrong. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	32. Chapter 32

You lay in bed, flat on your back. Then you flopped over to your left side before changing your mind completely and going to the right. As you lay on your right side, you glanced over at Shalltear, who was facing you but had her eyes closed. During your stay with the Bloodfallens, you had been sharing a room with your best friend. There was no real need to share since the estate was more than big enough to house plenty of guests. You could have even settled into one of the bedrooms in the same wing as Shalltear. However, when you had first arrived, you couldn't get through the night by yourself and had asked her if she was okay with sharing a room with you.

"Shalltear?" you whispered.

She opened her eyes immediately. "I was wondering when you were going to stop pretending that you were trying to sleep," she responded with a smile. Her voice was also quiet. While there really was no reason for the two of you to whisper, she continued in the same tone as you. Speaking quietly would have been more than enough to ensure that you would not wake anyone else.

The corner of your mouth lifted in a small smile. "I can't sleep?"

"Is that so?" she responded, sarcastic as usual.

You shook your head. "I'm going back to sleep." Turning on to your left side again, you had every intention to just resume your prior, futile attempts.

"Oh come on," she said.

You didn't move from your place, but you did open your eyes.

"(Name)," Shalltear whined. "I was joking."

"Fine," you responded and turned around again.

"So, I assume you can't sleep because you're getting married in the morning."

You pulled your hands out from under the covers and pressed the palms of your hands into your eyes. When you turned to Shalltear again, lights were sparking all around her face. "Don't remind me," you complained. The two of you had been awake for long enough that the fire the servants made sure to start before you went to bed was starting to grow weaker and, as a result, the room was progressively growing chillier. Hiding your hands back under the covers, you tried not to think about the cool temperature of the tip of your nose.

Grinning, she said, "You should probably be getting some sleep. You don't want to look tired for your vows."

You groaned.

"And then we'll have the wedding breakfast with the gathered nobility of several kingdoms."

Even though you were now well into the good graces of the nobility, you did not savor the thought of spending your morning with them. "No, thank you."

Shalltear laughed. "And even though you should then leave for your honeymoon, you will just disappear into the castle as husband and wife while your guests enjoy your castle's hospitality."

Giggling, you responded, "It's really too bad. I would have enjoyed traveling. I've only gone outside of the capital city to different capital cities. I wouldn't have minded seeing the countryside. Gazef's mother invited me to their estate. I can't wait to see it."

"I'm sure you'll get your chance eventually, when things are more stable."

Nodding, you said, "Perhaps." You breathed out and relaxed your tense shoulders, sinking into the mattress. But an unpleasant thought had you tensing up all over again. "Do you think my mother will try to show up?"

"Despite everything? I doubt it."

"She tried to force me back home three weeks ago."

"Well, she hasn't tried since," Shalltear pointed out. "She's a social pariah now that even you have abandoned her."

The frankness of Shalltear's words made you uncomfortable. You supposed that you really did abandon her. With this realization, you felt horrible. Even if she was never the kindest mother, she still raised you, fed you, and bought all those dresses and jewels for you. It was ungrateful for you to just leave the way you did, to hide behind a family she could not stand as well as the king. The fact that she even tried to bring you back, despite everything, should have meant something to you.

"(Name)," Shalltear said, drawing your attention. "That look on your face tells me that you're thinking stupid things."

You smiled sheepishly.

"Do you want to tell me what stupid things you were thinking?" she asked.

"Not particularly," you said.

She sighed. "You aren't going to feel any better until you start being more open about your feelings. I'm very open all the time, and I'm perfectly well."

Now, it was your turn to sigh. "It's just the usual. I'm ungrateful for abandoning her."

"I really want you to know that I don't appreciate you thinking like that."

"I know you don't."

"Seriously. She deserved it. Okay?"

You nodded. "Right, I know that. I just. Forget. Sometimes." Wincing at your words, you buried yourself further in the covers. You could _ feel _ that Shalltear was watching you with disapproval.

"Regardless, I do not think that there will be more than one Lady (Surname) at the wedding tomorrow, and she will be Queen Stronoff by the end of it," Shalltear said, very clearly concluding the conversation and your traitorous train of thought. You were glad for it.

Saying nothing, you closed your eyes. Perhaps you could finally sleep, the unconscious question of your mother calmed by Shalltear's cold logic. But sleep still did not come. You tried your damnedest to relax and try to coax your body into resting, but nothing worked.

Huffing out a breath, you flopped onto your right.

"No luck?" Shalltear asked.

"You don't seem to be faring any better than me," you retorted and opened your eyes.

Shalltear shrugged. "Sleeping is very difficult with you being antsy beside me."

"I'm sorry," you said.

"It's fine. I get it. We'll just both be too exhausted to properly enjoy your wedding tomorrow."

You laughed despite your mounting frustration. "Why do we even need all this pomp and circumstance? Why not just be married and be done with it, leave for the honeymoon?"

Laughing, Shalltear said, "I never thought I'd hear you say something like that."

"I know. It's so strange." You sighed while you stared up at the red fabric stretched across the four posters of Shalltear's bed. Now that you were thinking more about the honeymoon, thoughts of the what would happen during the honeymoon were filling your head, especially the _ consummation _ of your marriage. You wondered what it would be like. Your cheeks warmed. Perhaps Shalltear knew more about those matters. Glancing over at her, you found that her eyes had drifted shut again. You felt bad for even thinking about disturbing her so you just turned your head back to its original position. 

"What?" Shalltear asked.

Turning to her, you found that she had just one eye open.

"It doesn't matter," you said. "Just go to sleep."

She sighed and looked very unappeased by your answer.

"I was just wondering what things will be like. Tomorrow."

Shalltear shrugged. "It'll be a wedding. Early reception, even earlier wake-up time, celebratory breakfast, and then done. For you, anyway. I'll have to suffer the fools all alone."

Your cheeks felt even hotter than before.

"Oh." Shalltear's tone changed completely, teasing and lecherous, as she noticed your embarrassment. "Well, I suppose you have a point."

"I didn't say anything," was your weak argument.

"Things aren't entirely _ done _ for you after the breakfast." Shalltear didn't look even the tiniest bit tired now. She propped up her head with her left arm and gave you an enormous grin. "How much _ do _ you know about what's going to happen?"

"Not much. Just that Gazef and I will consummate the marriage."

"And what exactly does _ consummation _ entail?" She had absolutely no intention of backing down now that she could tease you.

You covered your face with your hands. "Sex."

Shalltear laughed again.

While she finished calming down, you had to try to push your embarrassment away. "There was actually something I wanted to ask you about."

"And that is?"

You felt too embarrassed to say the words but, since you had broached the topic, you also knew that Shalltear would not let you rest until you released them into the night air. "I was just wondering. What. You know. The wedding night would. Be. Like." Your statement was vague and filled with stutters and awkward pauses, but you somehow managed to finish it in one go.

Shalltear raised an eyebrow. "Well, (Name), dear. How do you expect me to know if I never had one?"

Groaning, you turned fully to Shalltear, who was still grinning. "I know that you've had. Relations. With some of the men before."

Her grin turned into a smirk. "Perhaps."

"So what is it like?"

"What is what like?" she asked, embarrassing you further. "I can't know what you mean if you don't _ specify_."

You groaned and completely regretted bringing up the matter at all. "Sex. What do I even do during it?"

"My, my, my," she tutted. "What an improper inquiry."

In response, you only stared at her.

Shalltear sighed happily. "(Name), you really are starting to sound like an adult."

"You're the worst."

She grinned a sharp, toothy grin. "I do try my utmost." But, after another moment, she did acquiesce. "Sex can be as easy or as difficult as you want it to be. You can do absolutely nothing but lie there and take it."

You frowned. "That doesn't sound very fun."

"I agree," Shalltear said with a tone of approval. "It's not. Conversely, you can try to take a more active role. Now. I know nothing about what you might expect with Gazef. He _ might _ be completely different in the private environment of the bedroom from the Gazef you know in the public environment. Some men are. But the differences are many, and I don't feel like discussing all of them."

"Why not?'

She idly waved her hand. "There are many types of _ personalities_, so to speak, that people have in bed. I, for one, tend to prefer being in charge. Always."

In response, you only furrowed your brows.

"On the other hand, there are others who prefer being told what to do. There are also people who can do either one. Or they do nothing of note. Or, or, or. Sex is complicated. And people are not necessarily going to act the same in bed as they do in real life. I'm not entirely sure about Gazef because he is not the kind of man who sleeps around. If he had anyone during the time that he has been king, then I'd be very surprised."

"Why does that matter if he has or hasn't?" you asked.

"Because if I heard rumors, then I would be better at giving you advice."

"What kind of advice would you give me?"

She shrugged. "It depends on a variety of things, like what kinds of things he likes to do in bed. But I can just tell you some general things, like most men, if not all, enjoy gettings their cocks sucked."

You could feel the heat settling into your cheeks. "I. I see," you said.

Laughing, Shalltear asked, "Am I already going too fast for you with just the mention of oral sex?"

"No!" you argued. She did not look very convinced, and you did not feel very convinced. To start, you had no idea what a cock looked like. Sure, you were pretty sure that you had seen—and felt—it on various occasions, but seeing it through cloth and in person were two different things.

"It mostly entails you putting it in your mouth," she explained.

You furrowed your brows. "The whole thing?"

Shalltear laughed through her nose, suppressing most of it. "Sometimes. It depends on its size and the magnanimous party's abilities. And those abilities may or may not include it going down your throat, not just in your mouth. But, if you cannot do that—and it is likely that you won't be able to your first time—then there is nothing wrong with giving yourself a hand." She curled her fingers, but not all the way, and made a motion of bringing her hand side to side.

Frowning, you thought back to all that you've seen of Gazef's size. You weren't sure you'd ever be able to fit it in the whole of your mouth, let alone all the way down your throat.

"You look like you're trying to figure out the logistics when you haven't even seen it."

Blushing at the statement, you looked away from Shalltear.

"No!" she exclaimed softly, completely scandalized. Inching closer, Shalltear asked, "What _ did _ the two of you do when I left you all alone?"

"I. I." You had to stop talking, take a deep breath, and try again. "I just saw the outline in his pants."

Shalltear looked slightly disappointed. "That makes more sense than what I was thinking. For a moment, I thought that you and the king had gotten up to some very significant shenanigans on my parents' couch."

You tugged the covers up to your eyes, covering your mouth and raging red cheeks. "No!"

"Well, you did get up to _ some _ things, clearly. Otherwise, he wouldn't have gotten hard." Shalltear gave you, mostly covered and flustered as you were, an evaluating look and then smirked. "Perhaps I should take back my earlier statement. Maybe you would have been able to seduce the king. Or maybe not. After all, that exchange was way back then: when you still hated him. He must enjoy the eager, innocent act, and there would have been none of that before."

You felt like disappearing into the mattress would have been a better fate than continuing this conversation. But something that she had said had stirred your curiosity. "What do you mean, 'eager, innocent act'?"

"Well, it's not an act in your case. But all of this—this conversation, your interest despite your embarrassment—suggests to me that you are interested in sex, in addition to being innocent."

Nodding, you said, "I've never been interested before." Your voice was still muffled by the covers.

"I know," Shalltear said and reached out the hand that she was not leaning on to pat one of yours. "After all, you never asked. Anyway, I also know you well enough to know that, whenever you are particularly interested in something, you tend to be very bad at hiding your interest."

"Well, I've been honest with Gazef when it comes to wanting to do more."

"Exactly. Some ladies might act demure rather than show too much of an interest since they worry that their gentlemen might not like the eagerness."

You froze. "Should I have?"

Shalltear frowned, furrowed her brows, and shook her head. "It's a pointless game, in my opinion. And, besides, if a gentleman is engaging in acts with a lady but then judging her for being interested in those acts, then he does not deserve to enjoy himself."

"Okay," you said.

"If I may, just how big is the king?" Shalltear asked.

You blushed but raised your left leg and positioned your hand around where you remembered it being. "It was about this far down."

If Shalltear's brows went any further up her forehead, then they might have been at risk for flying off. "Impressive."

"Is it?" you squeaked out. For Shalltear to call his size impressive, then it really must have been. You were starting to grow slightly worried.

Nodding, Shalltear said, "I'm sure he knows how to help prepare you for it."

You really hoped that Shalltear's statement was true.

"Continuing on, when oral sex is performed on a woman, then it is called cunnilingus."

The change was abrupt, and your eyes were wide, but you nodded along, encouraging Shalltear's bestowing of her wisdom.

"It's done in some combination of licking and sucking, much like a blow job, but the technique is very different. Also, it's a good time for the one giving pleasure to use their fingers inside the one receiving. Like, for example, if one is particularly well-endowed. It can be good for helping a woman adjust."

"Oh," you said.

"So, if he does not, then perhaps you should ask."

Nodding, you said, "Alright." While you processed all of this information, you were quiet. But then you asked, "Is it supposed to hurt? I heard that I'm supposed to bleed."

"Poppycock!" Shalltear said.

You were surprised at the strength of her disdain.

"What a foolish idea, putting such stupidity into girls' heads. Sex should feel good. Foreplay—playing with each other's bodies, getting to know them—should be done to help prepare you for when the time comes. Your body should produce lubricant to ease the way. If it doesn't, then don't worry too much, either. You might be too nervous. Just slow down and don't put too much pressure on yourself. Gazef is a gentleman, and I'm sure that he'll listen if you're reluctant. Don't feel obligated to let him between your legs if something if not working for you. However, when he does enter you, hopefully with plenty of preparation and lubricant, it should feel good. And there should _ not _be any blood. If it does not feel good, then you should ask him to stop." Shalltear finished her speech, and her tone softened significantly. "The point is to have fun. If it's not fun, then it's not worth doing. If something feels good, then tell him. And ask if he enjoys the things you're doing to him. Sex is all about give and take."

"Wow," was all you said. After another moment, you added, "I never realized that there was so much to it."

Shalltear shrugged. "Then I'm glad you asked. And feel free to ask about anything. I'll try to help any way I can. And don't be afraid to tell me if something happened that you didn't like. I mean, you should also tell Gazef, but if you feel like you can't—for any reason—then you can tell me."

You nodded. "Thanks, Shalltear."

She grinned. "Of course!" Flopping onto her back and stretching her limbs, Shalltear said, "Now, I think that I shall sleep. And you should, as well. Good night."

"Good night," you said. While you were glad that you had the conversation, you were definitely not going to fall asleep now that you had all these things to mull over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, wow! The wedding is next! :D  
Prepare for this fic to get very NSFW very fast!  
'Till next time!


	33. Chapter 33 (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another double feature! I'm on a roll! Lol  
I had originally planned to have both the wedding and the fucking, but I just ended up writing the fucking. Meh. Weddings are overrated.  
Warning: some regular ol' missionary up ahead. Have to earn that vanilla tag. ;3 Enjoy.

You should have been nervous: it was your first night with Gazef as a married couple. And you were—just a little anyway. But those nerves were completely forgotten in the wake of your excitement. Your body thrummed with anticipation. For so long, you had wanted Gazef. The sight of his broad shoulders, muscular arms and chest had been stirring desire deep in your abdomen for months now. His kisses—too few and far between for your tastes—had been so sweet. And, even when they weren't so sweet, or perhaps especially when they weren't so sweet, you ached for the man who would become your husband. The _ need _ you felt never went away. So many times you had almost succumbed to the aching you felt whenever you were close to him.

The memory of the desperate way he gripped you when you kissed after your reunion would creep up on you in your loneliest moments, filling you so thoroughly with delicious desire that you felt like you were going to crawl out of your skin.

You wanted Gazef so, so much. 

Why was he taking so long? You watched the door, impatience growing. Five minutes ago, your new lady's maid, Fiona, had finished helping you prepare for your wedding night, but the other half of this evening was missing.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, a knock sounded from the other side of your bedroom door.

"Who is it?" you asked, hoping that it was your husband.

"Me, (Name)," was the response.

Recognizing the voice instantly, you ran over to the door and threw it open. "You took too long," you scolded. You could feel your face settle into disapproval.

Gazef smiled at you, amusement in the corners of his lips. You wanted him to kiss you already. "You said ten minutes," he pointed out.

You frowned and looked at the clock standing in your bedroom. "Perhaps I did." Did you really get ready for bed so quickly? It usually took you so much longer. 

With the exchange over, you and Gazef continued to linger in the doorway. He had shed his jacket and vest while he had been waiting for you and was only clad in a white shirt, wrinkled from the day's activities. While he had been waiting, your husband had seen fit to unbutton the top button of his shirt. You could see the hollow of his throat. Seeing that little bit of skin was hardly impressive, but it was more than you had ever seen of your husband. You wanted to know what he looked like shirtless. 

You stepped back from him, and Gazef just barely furrowed his brows.

"Come here," you said simply. "And close the door."

Understanding your earlier movements, Gazef stepped towards you. He pushed the door as he moved, and it closed with a thump. Neither of you paid attention to the noise. Your were both too focused on looking at the other. Gazef's eyes raked over your frame in the thin, white nightgown you were wearing. This evening was the first time that you were wearing so little before him and that he allowed himself to look at you in such a way. The heat of his gaze warmed your body. He took another step forward, but his gait looked different, especially paired with the way that he was looking at you. It was almost as if he were prowling forward.

You ignored the slight confusion you were feeling at the sight in favor of the lust, and you placed your hands around your husband’s neck to pull him down towards you.

"Gazef," you said—or tried to say. Your tone was caught between a whimper and _ need_. 

His eyelids dropped low at the sound, and his arms wrapped tight around your waist. When the two of you made eye-contact, his gray eyes were dark. "(Name)," he said, voice deeper and slower than usual. You could feel the thrum in his chest from your sheer proximity. Slowly, his eyes moved from yours to your lips.

"Kiss me," you begged.

Gazef didn’t take long to move forward and press his lips against yours. The tug on your arms grew looser as he leaned forward to make up for your difference in height. His arms twitched where they were on your body, moving towards to your ass ever so slightly and then back up, but you didn’t think to ask why when he was kissing you harder than he ever had. His lips pressed tight against yours, and he moved them so quickly you could barely keep up. The wet smack of your mouths should have been embarrassing. It should have. But you whimpered into his mouth and opened your lips. Moving your tongue forward, you gingerly licked the juncture of his lips. Gazef groaned and opened his mouth, as well. Though the noise surprised you, you pressed closer to his body as you slid more of your tongue forward. Exploring his mouth felt strange, alien. But you never knew just how much the act of gliding your tongue against Gazef’s would light your body aflame.

When the two of you parted, you were breathing hard. Gazef seemed unbothered, which only served to annoy you.

"I love you," you said. You weren't sure why you suddenly wanted to say the words, but you did.

Gazef gave you a sweet smile, out of place amongst his earlier _ hungry _ expression, and responded, "I love you, too."

Warmth blossomed in your chest, independent of any earlier more carnal feelings, but you didn't dwell too much on it, not when Gazef was standing there with his arms around you. You could feel the heat from his body in the somewhat chilly air, so you pressed closer to him. That moment was when you realized that there was something—something hard and big—pressed against your belly. You remembered the first time the two of you kissed, how this presence had appeared, and the time on the Bloodfallens' couch, where you had seen a protrusion down Gazef's pants leg. Shivering, you reached one arm down between your bodies to touch it. Gazef's eyes watched your movement closely, and the earlier darkness had returned to his eyes. Leaning back just a little, you made space for your hand as you brushed his length with shy fingers.

"Is this?" you started to ask, but you felt too embarrassed to continue the question.

"Is this what?" Gazef asked in response. 

You could feel heat in your cheeks. Did he really mean to make you say it? You supposed that you had somewhat brought this on yourself by bringing up the matter, but Gazef had never teased you this way before. It didn't help that he was wearing a light smile. However, you had never been in such a situation with him. He had always stopped the two of you from moving further even when the only thing you wanted was to keep going. 

"Your"—you struggled with the word—"manhood."

"It is," he confirmed. The slightest hint of a smirk played on his lips. It was the first time you had seen such an expression on Gazef’s face, and the sight both flustered you and fed the heat in your abdomen.

Nodding, you ducked your head. Your cheeks were still burning, but you continued to touch him. Curiosity was winning over your embarrassment. Leaning close to you, Gazef captured your lips again. There was a barely reserved ferocity in the way he kissed you: the smack of lips, the aggressive movements of his tongue, and the hand at the base of your skull. It was as if Gazef was trying to angle you just right to completely overwhelm your mouth. This kiss reminded you of the first one, of the desperation in his manner, but the flavor of this desperation was different. All you could taste this time was heady desire. You responded in kind, your hand pressing more firmly against his cock as the kiss continued.

Gazef groaned. Then he pulled away, and you wanted to grab onto his shirt and pull him back to your mouth.

"(Name)," his voice was strained. "Please. Let's take a step back."

In response, you could only stare at him. You weren't sure exactly to what he was referring until he placed his hand over yours and pulled it away from his erection. 

You made a small noise of disappointment.

"I want to make you feel good first. Make sure you're prepared for later," he explained.

Though you knew what he was saying made sense, you wanted to play with him more. Gazef was responding so nicely to your touches. Every thrum of his chest made the space between your legs slick with longing. "Okay," you acquiesced.

Gazef kissed you once more, restraint palpable in the chaste press of his lips to yours. "Can you please go on the bed?"

You nodded. When Gazef released your waist, you realized just how much he had been holding you up. Your legs were wobbly, and your knees threatened to buckle with every step as you crossed the ten feet to the side of your new bed and sat down. 

This time, when Gazef got on his knees, you didn’t feel panic. You only felt arousal. He sat on his legs, his face now level with your breasts, but he didn’t pay attention to them yet.

Before he did anything else, Gazef made eye-contact with you and said, "If you feel discomfort or pain at any time, then tell me. I’ll stop. I don’t want your first time to be a bad memory."

You couldn’t respond. You only nodded. However, you weren't worried. There was no way anything he could do to you would be bad.

His hands were on half-wrapped around your ankles, and then they slid up your calves, feather-light touches on your skin. You moaned, and you saw Gazef’s jaw clench at the sound. The higher his hands went, the higher your night-gown followed. Anticipation rushed through your veins. It threatened to make your heart seize. Though you understood why Gazef was taking things slow, you wanted him to hurry up. The most delicious ache blossomed between your thighs, and you rubbed them together, the slight friction only making you want more. From his position on the floor, Gazef could very well see what you were doing. He reached the backs of your knees, and you moaned again, curling your toes this time. Placing the bunched up bottom of your skirt over your knees, Gazef leaned forward to kiss your right knee. He moved his left hand back to the widest point of your calf and slowly pulled it forward, so that your leg was no longer at a ninety degree angle, but your toes were still on the floor. Making eye-contact with you, he brushed the back of your knee, and you whimpered. Your hands, which had been on the mattress, fisted the covers.

"Gazef," you whined. "Stop teasing." He had only reached your knees, and you were already begging.

"I just want to get to know all your sensitive spots," he explained. The statement would have even been innocent if it weren’t for the fact that Gazef’s tone was dripping with lust.

Your eyes dropped to his abdomen, where his hard cock was so tight against his body that it was almost flush against him. It looked big. You shivered.

"Are you curious about me?" he asked, resuming his slow movement up your legs. Your thighs jumped under his hands, the rough skin torture against your sensitive flesh. Without even thinking, you arched your back, popping out your chest and overextending your elbows.

Then, you nodded in response. "Y-yeah." 

Silent, Gazef clenched his jaw again. If you didn’t know any better, then you would think that your husband was having a little trouble controlling himself. He slipped his fingers between your closed thighs and spread them open. You didn’t even fight him a little as your modesty nagged you.

"Lift your hips," he muttered. And you obeyed. Gazef momentarily sat up from his legs to lift your nightgown up and over your head.

Just like that, you were completely exposed. Your fingers and thighs twitched with the desire to cover your naked breasts and cunt, but you stayed just the way he left you. You whimpered, so, so aroused from everything Gazef had done even though it wasn’t really much yet. Shalltear had told you about more.

Gazef looked over your body, his gaze practically a physical touch, it was so intense. He wrapped his hands around your ass cheeks and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. With the change, your legs were now against his sides.

"You’re beautiful," he whispered, the sound ragged. He captured your lips in another quick-paced kiss. His lips moved faster than your lust-hazed body could react but, when he pulled away again, he didn’t look like he minded. Dipping his head forward, Gazef pressed saliva slickened lips to the very top of your left breast and then down, down, down to your nipple. He took it into his mouth, and you were arching your back again, giving him more access to your chest, while another moan slipped from your lips, and your arms wrapped around Gazef’s head. Not at any point did you even stop to think about all the lewd, lecherous noises you were making. You didn’t care. All you wanted to do was let him know just how _ good _he was making you feel.

You didn’t think you could feel any better until his teeth gently pressed down your nipple. The noise you made this time was much louder than any of the others, and you almost retained enough presence of mind to be embarrassed by it before Gazef pressed harder. This time, you bucked your hips forward and whimpered, the noise followed by a desperate "More! Please!"

He was testing your body, seeing how far how could go and just how much you could take, how much you wanted to take. With your whimpered blessing, Gazef bit down on your nipple, and you tightened your fingers around the thick strands of his hair. You huffed out a moan and panted from the effort. And then he was licking and sucking as if in apology, as if you didn’t love every second of the mix of pain and pleasure. Moving back from your nipple with an almost audible pop, he moved to the other. Again, he took the pebble into his mouth but, this time, he didn’t go through the whole process. He just bit down on it. You whimpered and arched into him as he licked away the bite.

"Gazef," you moaned. "Please."

Finally, his hand settled between your plush thighs, and his fingers slid between your labia lips. He sucked in a breath and groaned—the combined rush of cold air and vibration heaven against your hard nipple—when he felt just how wet you were.

Then, Gazef was pulling back from your chest, and you were reluctant to let him go, but you slacked the grip of your hands, anyway. They fell down to his broad, muscular shoulders to ground you in the face of all this overwhelming pleasure.

"You’re so wet." 

The statement was low from the gravel in his voice, and you shivered again. 

"Just for me."

You whimpered.

His fingers moved down, brushing against something that sent a shock of pleasure up your spine, to your tight hole. He was so gentle. Slowly, he pressed on that yielding spot, and your thighs jerked as your entire body tensed while your nails sunk into his shoulders. 

Immediately, Gazef stopped. His eyes were trained on your face. Once he saw you relax, he asked, "Can I keep going?"

You nodded and then kept nodding.

But then he was pulling his fingers away, and you were worried that Gazef was going to stop out of some misguided concern. "Gazef," you protested with a whimper.

"Lay down and relax," he said, paying no mind to your whining.

When you were flat on the mattress, he brought your feet up to brace against the mattress and pushed your thighs wider apart to press one finger against that place again. You were so slick that it penetrated you easily. Even just one of his fingers was spreading you open, the stretch both incredible and on the verge of being _ too much _. After all, you had never tried to touch yourself even when your body howled for release in the middle of the night. 

"You’re so tight," he said.

Your eyes fluttered closed as your walls clenched around his finger.

"Please move," you moaned.

And then he was sliding it in and out—not fast but not slow. The friction was just enough to make you moan every time he pressed the appendage knuckle deep and then pulled it out. With his careful ministrations, your walls loosened enough so that his one finger no longer felt like too much, but Gazef quickly picked up on the change, and he slipped a second along with the first on the movement in. With this new stretch, your hips stuttered, and your thighs closed around Gazef’s arm. But you weren’t pushing him away or telling him to stop, so Gazef continued. He was still on the edge of gentle, but it felt good—not teasing like the earlier brush of his hands up your legs—so you opened your legs more to give him more access to you. 

His lips were on the inside of your left thigh, the skin soft but his beard coarse. However, the contrast didn’t bother you so much. It was just another thing for you to discover, and you bucked towards his face. Shalltear had told you about what you thought Gazef aimed to do, to press his tongue against you. You moaned when his tongue—cool against your heated cunt—brushed against the earlier spot that sent a shock through you. Slowly, he dragged his tongue along that bundle of nerves, your clit, testing your sensitivity. The teasing touch was simultaneously too much and not enough, but your drive for pleasure won over, and you bucked your hips up against his mouth.

"More," you moaned. When you made eye contact with Gazef, you realized that tears filled the corners of your eyes, but you were clinging too hard to the sheets to rub them away. And then his eyes were moving down, looking over your heaving chest as you moaned and panted for him. His gaze felt like a physical weight on your body, but it still wasn't enough. "Please. More," you begged.

Three fingers filled and stretched your cunt, and you cried out, arching your back at the intrusion. But the blissful pressure of Gazef's tongue on your clit increased. You could feel the rush of lubrication around his digits as he pumped them in and out faster, no longer gentle with you, but you didn't know whether he changed the movements of his arm because he was doing as you wanted or because he was losing more and more of his control. Gazef's tongue dragged up and down your clit. The pleasure coursing through your body was so strong that you curled forward, tightening your legs around his head as your knees came to rest on his shoulders. You could feel the solid muscles of his back under your skin.

Every part of your body tensed along with your core as Gazef worked your body into a frenzy. 

You moaned his name, the bucking of your hips no longer a voluntary response to the pleasure of his fingers and tongue. Delirious, you made noises that vaguely sounded like begging with every intake of breath. At this point, you were so soaked that Gazef's fingers easily slid in and out of you. You could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers with every pump.

The tenseness in your muscles only grew more pronounced. You didn't understand what was happening with your body, but you loved every second of it.

Then, blissfully, that tenseness gave way to wave after wave of pleasure as your cunt clenched around Gazef's fingers, following the pattern of your orgasm.

When you were done, you felt boneless but completely satisfied. Your thighs, no longer tight around Gazef's head, fell open. Gazef didn't just stop. He kissed the sensitive flesh of your legs as the muscles trembled while he slowly pulled his fingers out of you. The friction felt delicious against your overly-sensitive walls. Through bleary eyes, you looked down at your husband as he licked his fingers clean, and you felt renewed lust at the sight.

Whimpering, you said," You're so handsome, it's not fair."

Gazef chuckled, and you closed your eyes tight, burning the image of his lust-blown eyes and messy hair into your brain. Even his laugh, so familiar to you, sounded new when it was almost ragged with need. When you opened your eyes, he was no longer kneeling between your legs but standing over you. On your back on the bed and with him at his full height, you remembered just how much bigger your husband was than you. Your eyes gravitated towards his cock again, and you felt an overwhelming desire to see it. Although your body protested, you sat up and undid the ties of his pants. Behind the lust, Gazef almost looked surprised at how forward you were, but he only tugged his shirt out from his pants and pulled it up over his head. He seemed just as ready to continue as you were—likely more since you were the only one who had finished for now. 

You didn't know what you were expecting to see when Gazef dropped his pants, but you were surprised nonetheless at just how big he was. After all, you had never seen a man naked before. Seeing the shape through Gazef's clothing had not truly prepared you for the sight. For a couple of silent moments, you just stared at his cock.

When you looked up at Gazef, you saw that he was staring back at you. "Is something wrong?" he asked, sounding like he was trying to garner at least some of his self-control.

You realized that you had unconsciously widened your eyes. Returning your face back into its usual state, you cautiously asked, "How is it going to fit?"

"That's why I wanted to prepare you first," Gazef explained. He was starting to sound like his normal self again, even as his cock was upright against his body. "If you want to stop, then I—"

"No!" you interrupted.

Relief visibly passed over his face.

"I do want you. I'm just a little nervous," you explained, suddenly bashful.

"That's normal," he said.

Your eyes returned to his cock. It was big, and the head was weeping and red against the tan skin of his shaft. Shalltear had told you all the things that you could theoretically do with it, and you, at least, wanted to touch it before he put it inside you.

"Can I"—you paused—"touch it?"

"I'd like that," he said. Gazef's voice was slipping back into that gravelly place, a rumble from his chest. He stepped forward until he was close to you, the shaft right before your eyes. Lifting a hand to it, you grasped the hot flesh. His skin was soft—almost silky—but the muscle underneath was rigid. From above you, Gazef breathed out audibly. You couldn't close your fingers around him, so you wrapped your other hand around him, too, intertwining your fingers. Slowly and without too much pressure, you pumped his cock once, twice, thrice. You were fascinated by it.

"You can hold it tighter," Gazef said, his voice nothing more than a rumble.

Nodding, you did as he bid, and Gazef rewarded you with a groan. You glanced up at him to find that Gazef's eyes were closed tight. When you returned your gaze to his cock, you looked at the fluid leaking from the slit in his glans. You were curious about how it tasted. So you leaned your head forward. Chancing another look up, you saw that Gazef still had his eyes closed. You licked.

Gazef's eyes tore open at the sensation of your tongue against him. He immediately made eye contact with you as you licked away the salty pre-cum while continuing to stroke his shaft. Though you weren't sure if you liked the taste, you would gladly swallow it for him if he looked so pleased every time. Gazef was watching you eagerly, his eyes following every movement you made. He would surely like it if you did more, if you put your mouth all the way around the head, so you did. In response, Gazef's hands tightened into fists at his sides.

You pulled back. "Was it not good?" you asked.

Taking in a deep breath, he said, "It was good."

"Then why did you?" You looked at his hands.

Gazef relaxed them. "I didn't want to grab your hair and startle you."

The image of his desperately grabbing at your hair sent a shock of arousal down to your cunt, and it clenched around nothing. You wanted his fingers back between your legs, pumping inside you. "I wouldn't mind," you said, averting your eyes back down to his cock. You resumed your actions but started stroking him faster, and you put your mouth around the head again. Large hands gently landed on the sides of your skull before Gazef curled his fingers around the strands. He was still being so gentle even though the mental image you had had been much rougher. You moaned around his cock as you dragged your tongue around the glans.

There was something fascinating about taking him into your mouth; however, you weren't sure if you could take it any further. Moving back, you let your lips drag against his skin. 

He groaned again. "I think you should stop for now," he said. His voice sounded rough.

Your hands stilled on his shaft. "Why?"

"I don't want to finish in your mouth before I." He trailed off.

"Before?"

"Before I fuck you."

The vulgar way he said those words made your cunt clench again. You lowered your hands but didn't know what to do next. Looking up at Gazef, you tried not to get overwhelmed with embarrassment again.

"Can you lay in the center of the bed?" he asked once he noticed that you were lost. You backed up on the mattress until you were in the center and lay down with your head on the pillows and legs bent at the knee. Gazef followed you. Like this, you somehow felt more exposed than before, but Gazef was looking down at your face as he lay down between your spread legs. You had to spread them even further to accommodate his considerable torso.

"Remember that you can tell me to stop," he said.

"I know," you responded this time. You didn't want him to stop, but you couldn't help the flutters of anxiety any time you glanced down at the sheer size of his cock. Placing his arms on either side of your head, Gazef was careful not to place any weight on you though you were sure that you wouldn't have minded. He leaned down to press another kiss to your lips. It wasn't as heated as your earlier kisses had been, but you felt the anxiety start to leave your body as you focused on him, instead. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you tugged him to you. You could feel the press of his naked chest against yours, and you arched your back to force your bodies closer since he refused to go any lower. Gazef shifted his weight to one arm as he ran one hand down your torso to your cunt. You raised your hips to eagerly meet his hand as Gazef pressed two of his fingers inside of you again. Moaning into his mouth, you enjoyed the stretch so much more this time. It wasn't as overwhelming as the first. Gazef didn't tarry long before introducing the third since you were still soaked from his earlier attention.

He broke the kiss. "Do you want to try?" He certainly looked like he wanted to try. Looking down at his cock, you felt another flutter of anxiety when it bobbed. Still, you thought you were ready. You hoped you were. Despite your nerves, you did want to feel him inside you.

"Yeah," you responded.

Gazef moved up higher to align your pelvises, and you immediately began to miss having his face so close, but anticipation won out. Adjusting his position over you, he moved his knees forward, so they were on both sides of your hips, and his arm to the place just above your shoulder. You lifted your feet from the mattress to instead cross your ankles on his back. Slipping his fingers out of you, he pumped his cock before stopping his hand near the top of his shaft and directing it toward your cunt. You whimpered as you felt the hot flesh trail down from your clit. Once he reached your sopping hole, he stopped and slowly pressed into you.

The head of his cock was already big, and you clenched around the intrusion. But you moaned. It felt good. Still, Gazef stopped, waiting until you begged for him to continue, which you did. You rocked forward as you tried to take more of him.

"(Name)," he moaned. "You're going to drive me insane," he complained, but he sunk his cock further into you.

Moaning, you tightened your legs and arms around him. It was already too much, and you weren't sure just how much more there was to go. 

"Stop me if it hurts," he groaned, voice ragged. 

It didn't hurt. You were so wet and prepared that he was entering you slowly and steadily with no issues but, no matter how hard you tried to relax, your body felt like it was trying to push him back out. However, Gazef was solid and all around you: there was no moving him. It was comforting. You just felt pressure from the stretch.

"Keep going," you moaned.

But he didn't move forward. Gazef rocked his hips back—you were about to beg him not to stop, to keep going—and then forth. A surprised, albeit pleasured, noise escaped your lips. He was gentle with you, and you might have even protested if he were doing anything else, but you appreciated that he was helping you move along the process of opening up for him. As much as you wanted for him to properly fuck you and feel just as good as he made you feel, your body was not up to speed.

On the next move forward, his cock entered you even more than it had before, and it rubbed against a spot that had you arching your back and digging your nails into the back of his neck. But you did not feel his hips press against the backs of your thighs, so you knew that he wasn't done yet. You looked up at his face to see that Gazef was concentrating on your face, the expressions that you were making as he pushed further.

"Did that feel good?" he asked.

Even now, he was barely thinking of himself. You nodded. "Yeah. Really good," you said, but the last word turned into another moan when he started rocking back and forth again, focusing on the place that had you digging your heels into the small of his back. Whimpering, you dug your fingers harder into his flesh. He wasn't giving you even one chance to relax, which you realized when he swept one hand back between your bodies and started rubbing your clit—still sensitive from your earlier orgasm—again. Your hips jerked forward from the intense stimulation, taking him in further as your cunt grew even more slick from his attention. Gazef hadn't expected the movement, and he grit his teeth as he stilled his body.

"Are you okay?" you asked, voice wavering. You were starting to recognize that earlier tautness of your muscles, the tell-tale signs of the intense pleasure you were hurtling towards again, stuffed full as you were.

"Perfect," he groaned.

You flushed from the word, not sure to what exactly he was referring.

Gazef resumed his earlier rocking into you, and the combined pleasure of his cock and his fingers was quickly turning you into putty before him. All you could do was cling to him as he worked his cock into your already overstuffed cunt. When Gazef finally slid all the way inside you, you were too lost in pleasure to even feel proud. But he stilled, his hips flush against the backs of your thighs while his fingers rubbed into your sensitive button. You arched your back and tensed your thighs, moaning and mewling for him.

"Please move," you begged. Part of you wanted him to move, so both of you could feel better, but the other part wanted to relieve some of the pressure of his cock inside you. He obliged, slowly pulling out his erection before moving it back into you. Everything he did was gentle and focused on your pleasure: he made sure to stimulate that spot he had discovered earlier on every shift of his hips in and out. Your body adjusted to him but slowly. Still, all the work he had done earlier had helped: the slick noises of him moving in you were loud in the room, audible even under your combined moans. 

Your eyes devoured the sight of Gazef above you. His entire body was perfection, especially as his muscles flexed and tensed from the work of fucking you. Your cunt clenched down on him as he hit that spot again. Fingers still working your clit, Gazef was steadily pushing you to another orgasm. You could feel the way your body responded to everything he did, and you only wanted to feel more.

"Gazef," you moaned. You were begging, but you didn't know for what. He groaned in response and increased the speed of his thrusts, resulting in the noise of his hips slapping against yours. You never realized that sex would be so loud, that your bodies would join in such a lewd manner. But your body loved what he was doing, and you arched again and dug your nails into him more. A little too considerate, Gazef was keeping his body far from you, but you wanted him close, to feel his chest against yours, to feel the weight of him. "Come closer," you begged.

Gazef furrowed his brows, but he bent his elbow, flattening the lower half of his arm against the mattress. Though he kept his body from actually resting over yours, he was close enough that you could feel his heat. You shifted your arms to close around his torso, and you dug your nails into the flesh at the middle of his back when he started fucking you in earnest. The heavy thrusts were almost too rough, but you loved every second. You mewled, arching against him, the tautness of your core warning you of your impending orgasm. 

From above you, Gazef was grunting with every thrust. His fingers were growing more frenzied against your clit. And then your body stiffened, mid-arch, as your cunt clamped down as much as it could on Gazef's cock. As your orgasm rolled through your body, you whimpered and tightened your grip—both with your arms and your legs—around Gazef's torso. He continued pumping into you, slowing down just a little, as you rode out your orgasm. This one felt better than the first even though your walls were stretched tight. Words were beyond you as you voiced your pleasure.

When you were done, your hands were no longer intertwined across his back, having fallen down to rest on the mattress, but your palms were flat on his sides. Your walls still clenched and fluttered, but the bulk of your orgasm was truly done. Your husband had stopped moving as you came down from your high.

But you gasped out when Gazef resumed his thrusting. In the midst of your own pleasure, you had not realized that he did not finish. Gazef moved the hand that had been against your clit to mirror the other, over your shoulder. Perhaps Gazef did not realize, but he had put some of his weight on you. You dug your nails into his sides. You loved it. His continuing made you realize how much more wet you had become from your orgasm, his cock slipping in and out of your body with ease. The longer he went, the more his rhythm fell. He was pumping into your cunt with a single-minded focus, and your body was responding despite your exhaustion. He pulled his cock back from you, so far back that you felt the glans slip out. Then his cock—hot and slick—was resting on your belly, pumping out liquid heat across your breasts. Rope after rope coated the valley between them, the last spurt landing in a solid line from the head. You were surprised at the amount.

"Sorry," he said, still catching his breath. He was back up on his fully-extended arms, looking down at the mess he had left on you. It was a little hard to take his apology seriously when he looked so satisfied to see you covered in his release. You smirked at him.

"Why didn't you do it inside?" you asked.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted to try for a child so soon," he said.

Oh. Right. _ That _ was a consequence.

Gazef stood from the bed. "Let me find something to clean you up," he said. You just closed your eyes. The next time you opened them, Gazef was hovering over you with a fond smile, carefully cleaning his cum from your torso.

"Tired?" he asked.

"Yeah," you muttered. "Lay down with me."

"One moment," he said. He left the bed again to put away the towel. When he returned, Gazef asked, "Do you want your nightgown?"

It took you a moment to process his words. "Yes," you decided. Clothed again, you rolled onto your side, and Gazef lay down behind you, molding his body to the back of yours.

"I love you," he said, whispering the words. 

"I love you, too," was your response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was in my Drive for like ever, and I am SO HAPPY TO FINALLY PUBLISH IT!  
Also, I avoided that kya~ so awkward~ defloration trope. Is anyone else sick of those scenes, or is it just me? It is possible to be excited to have sex for the first time.  
Anyway. Rant over. Till next time!


	34. Chapter 34

You sat beside Gazef in the dining room. The dining room which the two of you were currently occupying was nothing like the formal dining room where you had entertained guests for breakfast, lunch, or dinner—usually dinner. For one, the room was of a modest size, with a table that would only comfortably seat six; however, you supposed that it could potentially fit eight if the guests didn't mind a cozier seating arrangement. That being said, these theoretical guests would have to be close friends or Gazef's parents in order to be invited to this room. Only you and Gazef ever ate here. Well, eventually, when you had children, they would spend their morning here, with you.

The very first morning that you spent together, the servants had placed your plate opposite from his, with him at the head and you at the foot of the table; however, you silently moved your plate to the seat on his left. Though Gazef said nothing, he had given you a small smile when he saw you nearby. From that morning, your plate was arranged in the spot beside his.

Most of the time, the two of you did not speak much in the mornings, instead keeping one another company while you ate. But, by the end of the meal, you might have a short conversation before Gazef would leave to attend to his daily work. Lunchtime would usually be when you would talk more unless Gazef had to work through the meal or meet someone for business matters. Even though he expressed his desire to spend as much of his time with you as he could, Gazef was the king, and he had important matters to which he must attend. You knew as much. Still, now that you had settled into your life as the queen, you found that it was not much different from what you had done before. You'd read or spend time with Shalltear, sometimes entertain noblewomen for tea and sometimes be entertained by them. Now that you were queen, you didn't just spend time with the sycophants—who had quickly returned with their proverbial tails between their legs—but many of the other noblewomen, most of whom were married. Shalltear was the only unmarried noblewoman with whom you spent any significant amount of time. After all, only keeping company with unmarried ladies would make you look childish. Occasionally, you were tasked with entertaining the wives and children of any visiting dignitaries, nobles, or royals. It was interesting to meet new people, but you couldn't feel terribly comfortable around them after only a handful of afternoons or dinners. 

The short of it was that you were horrendously _ bored _ during these past three months. Though you weren't sure what you had been expecting—or expecting to change—now that you were queen, you were still somewhat disappointed. 

When you broached the matter with Shalltear, she told you to just _ tell Gazef_, which you supposed was a fair point.

You glanced over at him. Currently, Gazef was reading through one of many newspapers published in the Re-estize Kingdom. They were all in a pile on his left side.

"Gazef," you said, determined to speak before you lost your nerve.

"Yes?" he asked in response and looked over the top of the paper at you.

Having all of his attention on you almost made you lose your nerve but, after a moment of gathering your thoughts, you said, "I want to take on more responsibility."

He folded the paper twice and placed it on top of the pile. "Is there anything in particular that you want to do?"

Oh goodness. You hadn't thought this far ahead. What was there even for you to do? "I. I don't know," you said and averted your eyes from his. "I'm sorry," you apologized immediately. "I shouldn't have wasted your time like this."

Your half-eaten breakfast of porridge and berries sat in front of you, looking horribly unappetizing. Even though you had tried very hard not to fall back into your usual patterns, it had been difficult. Logically, you knew that Gazef did not treat you anything like your mother had, but you couldn't help but backpedal when you put yourself into an uncomfortable situation.

"(Name)," he said gently, calling your attention, and placed a hand on yours, which were clenched together in your lap. You realized that your entire body was tense. "It's okay. You didn't waste my time."

Looking up at him, you nodded. Gazef was always so careful with you, especially when you were like this, that you recovered much more quickly than you would have in the past.

"I'm okay," you said sheepishly.

He smiled, but his hand stayed firmly on yours even after you relaxed them. "That's good."

Still, you made no intention of continuing the conversation, and the two of you sat in silence for a moment.

"If there's nothing that jumps out at you, then maybe it would make the most sense for you to simply accompany me on my usual routine. Once you've seen what I do, then you might have a better idea of what interests you."

You shook your head. "I don't want to bother you."

"You won't," Gazef said firmly. He looked terribly serious—but mostly concerned. Though you had seen less and less of that expression with your months together, you still occasionally saw it on his face. Unfortunately, it just made you feel worse. 

"Okay," you said.

"Can we start tomorrow?" he asked. "Or would you like to start today?"

Shaking your head, you said, "Tomorrow should be fine." You didn't need to even ask him why he wanted to wait until tomorrow. His concern for you was still obvious. Even when Gazef returned to his newspapers, you noticed him glancing over at you every so often past them. 

*

As the advisors made their way into Gazef's office—most of them in a group except for Lord Bloodfallen and Lord Raeven—they quickly quieted when they saw you seated at the head of the table alongside the king. 

They quickly recovered, bowing and saying the appropriate greetings while amending what was likely their usual "Good morning, your majesty" to the plural. You and Gazef responded in kind even though your voice was considerably quieter than his.

The table was wide enough to fit both of your chairs comfortably on the short side, while the six advisors took their places on the long sides of the table. No one sat at the foot. You wondered why.

By the time that everyone was gathered, the room was _ uncomfortably _ quiet. It was nothing like the silence that you often shared with Gazef. But it was very effective at letting you know that the advisors were just as discomfited by your presence as you were by participating. However, Gazef said nothing about it, and they quickly followed his direction.

Lord Bloodfallen, who sat on Gazef's right side in the middle was the first to speak. And, as he spoke, he handed a folder of paperwork to Gazef, who opened the papers and looked them over while the former recounted the information to the rest of the table. "About three thousand merchants from the surrounding kingdoms and empires have already sent in paperwork making their intentions known about visiting the capital or sending goods in the month of May, an increase of twenty percent from May of last year. In addition, many are already sending their paperwork for June even though they have about a month until the deadline. Conversely, we have four hundred representatives of various companies planning on making the trip from the capital. I believe that, by summer proper, we will exceed the numbers we had in the years prior to the." He paused and glanced at you for just a moment. "Unrest."

"Excellent," Gazef said, handing the papers to you.

You had no idea what you were looking at, and you immediately froze upon taking them. But a quick skim over the information told you—albeit in more detail—about the state of the economy. 

However, once you were done, you had no idea what you were supposed to do. Were you supposed to pass them along, or was the paperwork just for the king? All of the advisors had similar folders in front of them.

"But what kind of goods will these merchants be bringing?" asked a man you recognized as Gazef's chief assistant, who sat to Gazef's right. 

"Thirty percent expressed their intent to bring produce and spices, fifty percent filed practical goods, and twenty percent cited luxury items. Merchants of luxuries increased more than any other group, which I believe is a good sign that they trust both our roads and our people to have money," was Lord Bloodfallen's response.

The chief assistant made note of Lord Bloodfallen's response, and Gazef moved the papers over to him. However, he did not read them over, instead closing the folder and placing it under his notebook.

Afterwards, the meeting continued in much the same manner. The advisor of the appropriate matter would give a report, either the Chief Assistant or Gazef would ask a question, the advisor would answer it, and then the next one would make their own report. It was quite riveting, really.

While you did pay attention, you did not find the meeting to be very exciting despite its importance.

It wasn't until Lord Raeven started to speak that you were even interested. "Prince Jircniv will be crowned as the King on the first of May, and your majesties are invited to attend," Lord Raeven said.

The burial of Jircniv's father had occurred shortly after your wedding so you supposed that it was time for the coronation.

"Since the Re-estize Kingdom has always had a difficult relationship with the Baharuth Empire, I would recommend that the two of you should attend, especially since the prince has always made his distaste for the nobility known within his home. He might take your lack of attendance poorly. But it is, of course, your choice," Lord Raeven continued.

With a nod, Gazef said, "We shall go." 

"Tradition also dictates that you bring a gift to the coronation."

"And what would you recommend?" Gazef asked.

"The prince has always made his love of fashion and jewelry known so a gift of either could go over well," responded Lord Raeven.

"The prince is often seen in red so perhaps a ruby set?" offered the chief assistant.

You frowned. Perhaps you could give him rubies if you wanted to insult him.

"(Name)," the king said.

Turning to him a little too quickly, you asked, "Yes?" 

The advisors, who seemed to have forgotten about you, quickly remembered that you were, in fact, still seated beside the king. Your heart picked up its pace now that everyone's attention had turned to you. All of them, except for Lord Raeven, appeared surprised at their king's decision to include you in the conversation.

"What do you think? Rubies?"

Though you were a bit reluctant to speak in front of everyone, you said, "No, he doesn't like rubies. He prefers garnets. But I believe that he mentioned an interest in carnelians recently despite their status as only a semi-precious stone. Jircniv said that they're darling when paired with diamonds."

The chief assistant nodded and took note of what you said. The other advisors, however, looked at you with a newfound curiosity.

"Oh. He generally prefers oblong cuts for the pendant. And nothing too complicated in terms of setting. He always says that simple is best."

"I will get a design to you within the week, your majesty," the chief assistant said to you.

You nodded in response before adding, "We should also commission new outfits for the coronation. I have seen Gazef's suits, and I really don't believe that Jircniv would approve of any of them."

"Do you have an suggestions, your majesty?"

"There are different cuts that are currently popular in the Baharuth Empire right now. Jircniv has described them to me extensively, but I will not bore you with the details. My seamstress knows the Baharuth fashions so I think it would be best if she worked with Gazef's tailor to ensure that we match properly."

"Then I will send the pages with messages about making the necessary preparations."

"Excellent," you said.

When you glanced over to Gazef, you found that he was smiling at you, and you felt rather bashful in response. You turned to face forward again only to see that the others in the room were all looking at you. They did not appear _ displeased _ by your intervention since it saved them much headache and guesswork. However, despite making a positive impression on the advisors, you grew uncomfortable once again. 

"We have been friends since childhood," you explained. Even though there was no reason for you to clarify why you knew or why you were exchanging correspondence with the prince, you felt the need to fill the silence.

"If you don't mind my asking, your majesty, when did you have occasion to meet?" asked Lord Raeven.

"My mother wanted me to marry him," you simply said.

The advisors all stared at you with shock. Gazef was the only one who was not surprised, and it was only because you had told him before.

"I suppose she did carry on with the matter rather quietly," you said.

"I think I speak for all of us when I say that your mother is a terrifying woman," Lord Bloodfallen said. As you looked at Lord Bloodfallen, you remembered the night when your mother tried to bring you back to your childhood home and the things of which she accused him.

Oh, you certainly didn't need him to remind you of just how terrifying she was.


	35. Chapter 35 (NSFW)

You tried not to think about your earlier conversation with Melissa, where she had tried to casually ask you if, for any reason, she should expect to need to adjust your dresses in the coming months. For a moment, you had not understood exactly to what she might be referring.

But then you recalled the expectations the people have of you as the queen and that you had not been filling them. All those months you spent trying to grow accustomed to your new home in the castle were months that had gone to waste, at least according to them, because you weren’t growing elsewhere. 

You just shook your head in response to her.

It was not as though you or Gazef had been reluctant when it came to intimate matters. And he definitely was not reluctant when it came to covering your belly, breasts, back, and thighs in his cum. You had even swallowed it a handful of times. It was easier to count the parts of you that had not been covered in his release as one point or another. But the point was that it had never been inside you—where it counted, anyway. There was no reason for you to be pregnant. Certainly, you knew that accidents still happened even when a couple was not intending to have a child, but you were moderately sure that they had not occured in this case.

And, with such thoughts rattling around in your head, you returned to the castle for Gazef's measurements to be taken and you to converse with his tailor.

The older man and his assistant were waiting for the two of you in your rooms when you arrived from your visit to Melissa's shop. She had offered to visit you instead after you became queen, but you quickly rejected the thought. There was a ceremony of sort that you enjoyed about visiting her and having your measurements taken or doing a fitting. Without the setting of the shop, the entire affair would feel wrong.

While the two of you had been away, they set up a platform with three mirrors in front of them.

Bowing before you, the two men said, "Good afternoon, your majesties!" 

"Good afternoon," you and Gazef echoed in response. 

The tailor approached the two of you and bowed again when he was nearby.

"I trust the day is treating you well, so far, your majesties?" he asked.

"Of course," Gazef said. You nodded along with his sentiment. "How are you doing?"

"Never better, your majesty."

You expected the two of them to continue with their pleasantries, but the tailor turned to you, instead. At that, Gazef took the bags containing your purchases into your bedroom. 

"My queen! It is an honor to meet you personally. I have heard many kind words about you from the king," he said.

You smiled, somewhat self-conscious to hear that Gazef talked about you, even if the words were all kind. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Abbott. You have quite the reputation."

"Oh, thank you!" he said in response, a wide grin splitting his face. The tailor was a man of small stature, clean-shaven, and with short, slicked hair. "I heard from the chief assistant that we will be working on some suits today that conform to the fashion standards of the Baharuth Empire and, since I was informed of such, I have been looking into the differences to try to get a better understanding of them. However, I worry that I do not understand them enough for the suits to not embarrass the king before the Baharuth court. I, unfortunately, have never worked on such garments before."

"The future king himself has explained the fashions to me so I can help you with whatever you may need,” you said. Since you made up with Gazef, you had resumed your correspondence with Jircniv. He seemed delighted to hear from you again.

"Thank you!" Mr. Abbott said with a wide grin. He certainly seemed nice. 

Gazef returned.

"Your majesty. Michael is ready to take your measurement whenever you are," the tailor said.

With a nod, Gazef said, "Of course. One moment."

You and Mr. Abbott settled down on the couches as he spread some papers across the coffee table. The papers contained images and illustrations of suits, both in the common fashions of the Re-estize and Baharuth. 

The two of you were already deep in conversation when Gazef returned in only his smallclothes. Neither Mr. Abbott or Michael were slightly fazed by your husband's lack of clothing, but it felt a little strange for you to see him in so little while there were others around. However, you returned your mind to the conversation and your eyes to the papers in front of you.

Or you tried. You weren't terribly successful.

Every so often, you'd look over to Gazef. He was shirtless, with only his tight, knee-length pants protecting his modesty. Michael would wrap the tape measure around an arm and then note down the number. In the mirror's reflection, you could see that your husband was trying very hard not to look bored. You were certain that, when he became king, he did not think that so much of his time would be spent preparing his clothing.

Now, even though there was absolutely nothing sexual about the scene in front of you, you felt your body gradually heat up. You weren't even sure why you were reacting in such a way. The interaction between the men was purely procedural.

You watched as Gazef raised his arms, the muscles shifting under his skin, and Michael wrapped the tape measure around the widest part of his chest. He said a number, which you just barely heard, and allowed one side of the tape measure to drop away from your husband's chest before moving to note it down in the open notebook.

Dropping your eyes to the papers, you paid attention to Mr. Abbott as he looked up from his notes. He asked you another question.

Thankfully, you were done shortly thereafter. You had chosen the fabrics earlier in Melissa's shop and, before he left, Mr. Abbott said that he would get samples from her to ensure that your outfits matched. Gazef didn't even have a chance to find a shirt; however, you were pretty sure that he was comfortable just as he was, and you certainly enjoyed the view.

Walking over to your husband, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to you for a kiss. When the two of you broke, Gazef looked down at you with a grin.

“Is that so?” he asked, his tone teasing.

You nodded with a little hum. You ran your fingers along the spots where Michael had measured him: the widest part of his arms, hard with muscle and with plenty of visible bumps from veins; the widest part of his chest, each pectoral a veritable slab of muscle; and his torso, the flat plane lined dips and bumps. 

“I know that you're an excellent specimen,” you said with what could only be described as a lecherous grin and ran your fingers down the length of his arms. "But seeing you measured and knowing _ just _ how big you are was a bit exciting." Part of you wanted to be ashamed of the fact that you were so willingly voicing such an unbecoming sentiment, but the bigger part of you ignored the nagging and continued to ogle your husband. Despite whatever reluctance you felt about being so open about your desire, Gazef seemed to appreciate your honesty—as he always did.

Placing his hands around your back and knees, Gazef easily lifted you from the floor and carried you over to the bed. You squealed with surprise, and your heart started racing in your chest.

"I thought you liked being reminded of my strength," Gazef teased. He leaned towards your face, and you obliged his request for a kiss by wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your mouth to his in an already-open mouth kiss. Your tongue slid against his muscle, tempting his tongue into following yours back to your cavern. With a rumble, Gazef filled your mouth in the way that had your cunt immediately flooding with an extra wave of slick. Whimpering, you squirmed in his arms until your husband broke the kiss to place you on the edge of your bed. He straightened up, and you were greeted by the sight of his considerable length straining against his skin-tight white pants.

Eyes fluttering on the edge of closed, you leaned forward until your cheek was pressed against the hard, hot shaft. You shifted your face ever so slightly, until your lips were against Gazef's shaft.

You made eye-contact with your husband and then started to gently kiss and mouth at his clothed cock.

Gazef released an audible breath at the sight. A strong sense of satisfaction filled you at the knowledge that you were able to raise such a reaction from him in such a short amount of time. When the tailor and his assistant left, Gazef didn't seem even the slightest bit interested in carnal pursuits. You saw no indicative glances in all the time the two of you had been together. And now, he seemed perfectly ready to fill and stretch you with his cock.

"You're a temptress. Do you know that?" he asked, voice hardly above a rumble.

With a mirthful laugh, you leaned back, fully satisfied by the knowledge that Gazef would miss your touch. "But what does it say about you for never being able to resist me?" you asked, leaning your head down towards your right shoulder. 

Gazef closed his eyes and sighed. "Too much."

While he was busy, you leaned forward with the resolve to rid your husband of the rest of his clothing. Gazef opened his eyes when he felt your fingers all over the bottom of his abdomen, and he just watched as you undid the buttons of his pants while you mouthed at the patch of skin right above them. You shoved his pants—and underwear, while you were at it—down past the muscular expanse of his thighs, and his cock abruptly bounced up once it was free from the confines of his pant leg. However, you had come to expect the movement in all the time that you and Gazef had spent together since your wedding, and you just leaned back to avoid it. You shoved what was left of his clothing down to his ankles, and he stepped out of the pile of fabric.

Now that you had reached Gazef's cock, you wrapped your hands around the base of his shaft to start pumping while you licked and generously coated the head in your saliva. With a throaty groan, Gazef settled his hands on your head—one on the crown and the other just under the base of your skull—and pulled your face closer to his body, resulting in his erection sliding deeper into your waiting mouth. Your cunt clenched painfully around the incredibly disappointing nothing at the rough display. The more that you and Gazef had fucked, the more you realized that you loved it when your husband handled you aggressively during sex. 

The trouble was just convincing him to do it.

However, it seemed that he was already losing control of his strength. You smirked around Gazef's cock and moved forward until just about half of his shaft was in your mouth. The head bumped your throat, and you gagged. But neither you nor Gazef minded. His cock throbbed in your mouth, and more lubricant flooded your cunt. By the time that he was going to touch it, you would be absolutely soaked. 

Your husband moaned your name, and he pulled his hips back in anticipation of thrusting forward again. Of course, just when you thought that he might lose control, he was instead infuriatingly careful about how much he moved, the pumps controlled despite the fact that both of you loved it when he was careless.

Gazef pulled out fully, his cock hard and proud right in front of your face.

Sliding your gaze up his body, you said between breaths, "You don't have to be so careful. I'm never careful when your face is between my legs."

He gave you a lop-sided grin. "I know I don't. But I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't hurt me any more than I want," you responded. 

Instead of saying anything else, Gazef moved his hands to yours and tugged you up from your seated position. He had gotten very good at undoing the ties on the back of your dress without looking, and you lead into another kiss while he worked on divesting you of your clothing, both of you ignoring the fact that his cockhead was smearing saliva and leaking pre-cum on the front of your dress as it pressed into the space between your thighs. It was going to leave a stain, but you didn't give the eventuality much thought. 

When your dress sagged around your shoulders, Gazef moved his hands to your shoulders and tugged. You dropped your hands from his abdomen to aide in his endeavor. The two of you broke the kiss and exchanged a lustful look that turned into shared horror when you heard the sound of fabric tearing. You froze. Gazef's hands stopped moving in exactly the place where they were, and you had to remove them before you could survey the damage. A tear had appeared along the stitch that held your left sleeve to the bodice. While the fabric looked a little worse for wear, it wasn't absolutely ruined, which had initially been your concern. You were terribly fond of this particular shade of purple, and it would be a shame if the dress couldn't be fixed.

"I'm so sorry," Gazef said. The earlier, complete lust had fallen from his expression. His erection had even wilted some. However, it was still at half-mast, and you placed a hand on it to coax it back to full.

"It's okay," you said thoughtfully. "Melissa should be able to fix it."

Some of his worry faded at your words, and his attention seemed to turn to what you were doing to his cock, instead, as it hardened quickly at your touch. "I still feel bad. Let me make it up to you," he said. 

You nodded. "I'll take your statement under consideration."

He smiled and leaned in to kiss you again.

But, before he could, you opened your mouth and said, "When I told you that you don't have to be careful, I didn't mean with my clothes. I don't mind being a little bruised or sore, but I would prefer not to lose a dress to your lust."

Trying to suppress a groan, Gazef pulled away from you.

"Can you get on the bed?" you asked.

Gazef obliged your request, sitting with his back propped up by the pillows and headboard. He watched as you finished removing your dress, which left you in your underclothing. Before you continued, you cocked your head and said, "No, lie down flat."

Though he raised an eyebrow, Gazef said nothing about your _ command_. You briefly wondered if he enjoyed being told what to do before returning your focus to the task at hand. Gazef certainly looked good, his big, bulky body all laid out on the mattress before you like the most tempting offering. When you returned your hands to the task of uncovering your body, your eyes lingered on the sight of Gazef's cock. Once you were completely naked, you crawled on your hands and knees over to where your husband's head was flat against the mattress. His cock bobbed in your peripherals.

"You can start making it up to me by making me cum," you said, lecherous grin absolutely returned to your face as you stood up on your knees. You looked down at your husband.

Gazef groaned at your words, placing his hands on your hips and tugging you towards his face. "Don't mind if I do."

You giggled, abruptly turning in his hands so that you were facing his cock before settling your cunt over his mouth. This position was nothing new: you had sat on Gazef's face before—both facing forwards and backward—and he had long since convinced you to forego your embarrassment with his skilled fingers and tongue. But you felt a new thrill at the fact that he had so easily given in to your command since you had never tried giving him one before. You wondered how he had felt about it.

Big fingers delved into your core, spreading your lips for Gazef's awaiting mouth. He groaned, the puff of breath cool against the heat of your cunt, while you watched with delight as his cock throbbed concurrently. "So wet," he muttered, the fingers of his right hand curling around the flesh of your hip before he tugged you against his face.

Whatever facial expression you were sporting was wiped off your face the second that his tongue met with your clit. Your button instantly responded with a shock of pleasure up your spine. Though your back was already curved from your slightly forward seated position, it curled further as you threw your head back and moaned. Gazef didn't waste time, closing his lips around your clit and sucking on it hard. You trembled as his digits pressed into your core to spread you open. Even with your hands planted firmly on his abdomen, you felt like you were going to buck off his face. Dropping your abdomen to his, you took firm hold of Gazef's cock and licked the head. Your height difference meant that you couldn’t quite reach the base of his cock or his balls with your mouth, but you could still play with him with your hands, of which you took full advantage, as you started to gently rub his scrotum with your fingers. Gazef's chest rumbled against your belly, and you could feel the vibration of his groan against your cunt. With a mewl, you tensed your back and rolled your hips against his face. In turn, he tightened his grip on your ass cheek. Gazef tugged his fingers out from between your walls and grabbed the other cheek with his newly free hand as he instead sunk his large tongue inside your entrance. You whimpered as the muscle pumped inside you several times before he pulled it out and licked along your slit. 

Try as hard as you could to stay on task, you couldn't help but lose focus and just moan around Gazef's cock. Everything he did felt so good. The first few nights after your first together, your husband had insisted on slowly getting to know your body. Though you were initially frustrated by the meandering pace, you appreciated his thorough study now that you benefited from it with every romp. Remembering yourself, you bobbed your head on it, going as deep as you could, with your movements punctuated by little moans and soft whimpers as Gazef continued to lick along your pussy. You pulled back to watch as a drop of pre-cum welled up on the slit. His cock twitched in your mouth as you lapped away the salty fluid. 

Gazef rumbled again, and you felt the vibrations of his mouth right on your clit as his lips wrapped around it to give it a hard pull. Your thighs trembled as you whimpered in response.

Your body quickly hurdled towards full pleasure, muscles growing tense—especially in your core.

“Gazef,” you whimpered and resumed the task of filling your mouth with his cock.

In turn, your husband squeezed your cheeks and pulled your cunt tight to his mouth. His tongue squirmed against your clit before making long, full licks all along your button. You could feel the flat of his tongue. There was something desperate to his movements, punctuated by the throbbing in his shaft, and his desperation made your body heat up all the faster. Rolling your hips as much as you could with his hands holding your ass still, you changed the way that his tongue pressed against you. The pressure alternated in a way that sent a thrill of pleasure down your spine.

“I’m so close,” you moaned, hand quickly pumping up and down his spit-slackened shaft.

In response, Gazef groaned again, and the vibrations had your eyes rolling into the back to your head. When he sucked on your clit again, you lost what was left of your senses to pleasure and released a long, pitched moan as your walls started to clench down on nothing. Your thighs tightened on either side of his head, trembling with the effort of holding you up while your body could only focus on the pleasure rolling through you. He made another rumbling noise against your clit as you rode out your orgasm, and your body grew more slack with every wave.

By the time you were finished, you were exhausted. You were absolutely ready for an afternoon nap.

However, you had left your work unfinished.

“(Name),” Gazef rumbled. The sound of his voice quickly reawakened your cooling libido. “Was that good enough to earn your forgiveness?” 

You only nodded in response. Glancing over to his cock, you realized that it was so hard, the tip was almost flush against his abdomen.

Your movements were lazy as you lifted your torso to wrap your lips around Gazef’s cock once more. As you resumed the bobbing of your head on Gazef’s cock, he moaned under you. In time with the forward movement of your head, you pumped his cock up, meeting your lips with your curled fist. The taste of salt and bitterness spread on your tongue, and you knew that Gazef was close. He seemed to enjoy bringing you pleasure almost as much as he enjoyed receiving it.

Gazef didn’t last much longer, his hips moving in controlled bucks as his release coated your tongue. You felt his shaft throb between your lips and against your palm with every rope of cum.

Swallowing the mouthful, you lazily climbed off Gazef’s body and turned your body so that you could lean your head on his chest.

With a sly, sleepy grin, you craned your neck to meet his eye and then opened your mouth to show off your clean tongue. Your husband huffed out a laugh.

“Aren’t you so good?” he asked, teasing, before he lifted his head to press a kiss to the top of yours.

“I am,” you agreed. You ignored the momentary desire to tease him about how he was _ not good _ for tearing your sleeve as you closed your eyes. A nap sounded very good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Rea, you're such a dom! (>////////<)


	36. Chapter 36 (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm an asshole—I'm very well aware. It has been almost a month since the last time I updated but, in my defense, I have been incredibly distracted with playing Hades. It's a fantastic game. And Dionysus is super hot. I just want to put my face between those thighs.  
Anyway! Have a super long update lol. Eleven pages on docs :D  
I was planning on doing a double feature since I started writing the next chapter before I finished writing the smut for this one—I know I'm a dick—but I haven't finished it yet, and this chapter is already complete. I'll update shortly. Only need to add a little bit in the middle. And then I'll do a double feature since chapter 38 is done and has been since fucking April 5. lmfao  
I'm quite excited for that one.  
Till then! Too-da-loo!

Your left hand was clasped in Gazef's right, while your right was flat on his upper arm. His left hand was against the middle of your back.

The two of you flitted across the ballroom floor in time to the brisk music, with Gazef gently leading you along. Spinning, you ended up where the last couple just stood, then continued on to the next place, and so on. Although the you _ should _ have been looking out at the ballroom—both at the gathered guests who watched the dancers and those who ignored them in favor of conversation—you spared a glance at the side of Gazef's face and dragged your eyes along the strong line of his jaw. You spied the little scar again. The corner of his mouth twitched, transforming the gentle smile he had on his face into more of a smirk for just a moment, and you know that you'd been caught.

"Why, Queen (Name), you're not looking out at the room. My dance teacher would be horrified," Gazef murmured. 

"Oh, I deeply apologize, King Gazef," you responded from the corner of your mouth. "I will be sure to keep my eyes off your handsome jawline." 

He huffed out a laugh, and his gentle smile turned into more of a roguish grin. You decided that you liked him this way, too. Though you wanted to press your face into the crook of his neck to kiss and mouth at the skin, you refrained, which you thought was such an excellent display of self-control. Besides, such an action would wipe the paint on your lips onto his neck, and the marks might just scandalize the gathered nobility. But who knows? The people of the Baharuth apparently often scoffed at Re-estize prudishness. 

The two of you were a vision on the dance floor, your deep red gown with golden accents matched by your husband's coat. While your dress was plain in design, the solid fabric, and cut, the golden trim and buttons drew the eye to the lines of your bodice, which sported off-the-shoulder sleeves that showed off your chest and the very tops of your breasts. A simple gold chain with a large, carnelian pendant lay in the center of your chest, and matching earrings dangled in your ears. Cut from the same red fabric, Gazef's coat was an excellent accompaniment to your dress. It was lined with the same, gold trim and decorated with the same, gold buttons, while carnelian and gold cuff links winked in the light at his wrists. It also fit him like a glove—the typical style of the Baharuth aiming to show off the lines of the body instead of hide them. His knee-length pants were made in a similar style, with the red fabric as the primary, and his socks were a crisp white. 

More than a few eyes strayed to you as you moved about and, as you passed, you heard the nobility of the surrounding kingdoms whispering about what an excellent couple and excellent dancers the two of you made. You tried not to be smug, but it was difficult since the outfits and jewelry were designed for the evening largely with your input. And, well, of course you were excellent dancers. Before you left for the coronation, the two of you had made sure to practice together to ensure that you always looked good on the dance floor. Though Gazef hadn’t spent his life learning how to dance and otherwise act in front of nobility, his expertly honed body was no stranger to physical activity. And you? Well, your mother always insisted that you act in a manner befitting of royalty, and dancing was just one among the multitude of activities and mannerisms that you practically had beaten into you.

As the song drew to a close, the dancers slowed down, with you and Gazef among them. Personally, you wouldn't have minded a snack, and you were sure that Gazef agreed since neither of you had a chance to eat before or after the coronation, which itself was a lengthy affair. You also had yet to offer your congratulations to your friend. Looking around, you tried to track down Jircniv, but he was somewhere beyond your notice.

The two of you were blissfully left alone in the time it took for you to approach the buffet tables, which were attended by servants with long hair and red uniforms. Most of the decorations in the ballroom are also red, with some gold here and there—just enough to look good but not gaudy. You and Gazef looked like you had been privy to the new king's choice of design, but you had just trusted your knowledge of Jircniv's tastes.

"Many people here tonight," Gazef said while he took a glass of champagne from the refreshment table. 

You took one of your own as you nodded. Lord Raeven had impressed upon you the importance of making a good impression on the other royals in attendance and, before impressing them with the dance, you had made sure to greet them all and make at least some conversation. Jircniv was the only royal with whom you had yet to speak, and it was only because he was so in-demand by the others tonight. When you and Gazef had taken an appropriate amount of food, you retired to a quiet corner with a couch. Perhaps the you before the coup would have been more willing to be social, but your energy for such events had decreased significantly after all that time you spent alone. Gazef also looked relieved that he could take a break. On the walk over, you drank some of your champagne, the fizzy liquid quickly going to your head with your empty stomach. You sat down, already in much better spirits. For a while, you ate in silence, hoping that no one would approach.

"Baharuth balls are very," Gazef trailed off as he looked for a word to truly encapsulate the essence of the evening.

"Overwhelming?" you offered.

"Yes," he quickly agreed.

You giggled at his earnest response. Glancing over at you, Gazef's lips tugged into a smile. You wanted to sit closer, to have the warmth of his side against yours, and maybe sneak a little kiss. But, even though you were now married, such a public display of affection was frowned upon. Certainly, you were in a mostly hidden corner, but there were so many people lingering around the large room that you were sure _ someone _ would see you. 

"Someone's had a little too much to drink, apparently," Gazef said to you.

"Oh hush," you responded. "It was only the glass."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I just drank most of it on an empty stomach."

With a little sigh and a shake of his head, Gazef looked like he only somewhat disapproved and was mostly amused. "That's not very responsible of you."

You shrugged.

"I'm still hungry," Gazef admitted after a moment.

"I am, too," you said. 

What was an _ appropriate _ amount was not necessarily a filling one.

"I'll be back with more in just a moment," he said with a small grin. 

"Okay," you responded in kind.

As Gazef walked away, you let your eyes linger on his silhouette and the tightness of his pants—especially around his rather nice ass. Every part of him really did look like it was sculpted from the finest granite.

While you were alone, a servant wandered over with a serving tray laden with flutes of champagne. You traded in your and Gazef's empty ones for two full ones with a smile and a word of thanks. When your husband returned, you spied that he made sure to bring chocolate truffles topped with little slices of strawberry. You couldn't help the smile you made. 

"Dessert already?" you asked.

He shrugged. "The servants brought more while I was at the tables. They seem to be rather popular so I thought to grab a few before the vultures picked them off again."

You giggled again, and Gazef's eyes trailed to the two glasses of champagne on the side table standing to your left. "I see you got refills."

"I did," you said.

He sat down beside you and placed the plate on his considerable thigh while you handed over one of the glasses, and Gazef took a sip from it before placing it on the table closer to him. Gazef’s decision to place the plate on his thigh to brought your attention to it. In the little over four months that you had been married, you had done all sorts of things, but the way he was sitting, thighs so pleasantly open, had your mind immediately falling to the gutter. And you suddenly had a burning question. How would it feel to ride it? 

Gazef raised a brow when he saw that you were staring at his lap, the way your eyelids drooped to half of their usual position. Moving a hand to your back, he rubbed up and down it gently.

"I wonder what you're thinking about," he murmured to himself. His deep voice only sounded better when it was so low.

You remembered yourself and shrugged, appearing the picture of innocence. The lusty bedroom eyes went away in favor of a bland smile. "Nothing at all," you said in response. "Well, that's not true. I was thinking about how delightful that truffle would be in my mouth."

Instead of saying anything, Gazef narrowed his eyes at your choice of words. You picked one up, holding it just away from your mouth to lap at the chocolate powder on the surface of the treat. You didn't need to see Gazef's face to know that he was watching your tongue move from his position to your right. The benefit of sitting in a secluded corner with your back to the wall was that you were sure no one else could see what you were doing. Once you were done licking the side of the truffle, you brought it closer to your lips, slowly and carefully taking a small bite. The truffle had a rich chocolate flavor, complemented nicely by the sweetness of the strawberry that sat atop it. When you finally looked at your husband, you saw that he was absolutely focused on your lips. You let the chocolate warm on your tongue before you chewed and then swallowed.

Making a small noise of pleasure, you said, "It's perfect."

Gazef’s jaw shifted side to side, but he said nothing.

You smiled innocently and offered the truffle to your husband. “Do you want to try it?"

For a moment, he just pressed his lips together. Then he nodded. "Sure."

You grinned, delighted, before bringing it to his mouth, which he opened so nicely for you. You just knew that he had something naughty planned. Though you meant to quickly take your fingers away, Gazef flicked the tip of his tongue against your thumb. The touch lasted no more than a moment, but it had your cunt clenching. The immediate ache in your abdomen could only satisfied by the one who caused it.

To anybody watching, your exchange was likely saccharine—easily explained by your status as newlyweds—but, when you glanced down to your husband's lap, you noticed the bulge down his leg. 

He leaned in with a smile and whispered, "I'll be sure to make you scream tonight."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" you asked.

"A promise," was his response.

"Then I'll hold you to it."

Giving Gazef another bland smile, you felt satisfied that your teasing earned you what was sure to be a delightful night. Whenever you wound him up during events where he had to spend an extensive period of time _ not _ fucking you, he would be raring to go by the time the two of you could get away. And he was always so rough during those sessions. 

However, your flirting and teasing could go no further. Gazef had to get himself under control before you resumed your socializing. Truly, having a cock must be so hard, especially one as big and noticeable in such tight pants as his—not that you minded your husband’s considerable member. 

When the two of you satisfied your needs for food—and you your need to rile Gazef up—you ventured back into the ballroom proper to fall into conversation with a pair of sibling nobles from the Baharuth. Their friends then joined, followed by the third sibling of your earlier conversation partners, and you were suddenly surrounded by a group. They must have been interested in getting to know Re-estizian royalty. You discussed theatre, what plays everyone had seen and what they wished to see. They insisted on taking you to a play before you returned home. Everyone was so terribly pleasant. 

Then you felt a hand tap your arm, and you turned around to see none other but the new king himself.

"My darling (Name)!" he exclaimed. No one even looked surprised at Jircniv's familiarity, long since accustomed to his eccentricity. They instead clamored for his attention.

"Jircniv! Or should I say King Jircniv?" you responded, copying his tone. The left corner of his mouth quirked up at the correction. "Congratulations!"

"Congratulations," Gazef offered.

"Thank you!" Jircniv responded with a wide grin. All around you, the others tried to catch the new king's attention. The corner of his mouth twitched for just a moment, and you knew that he was tired of smiling for one night. "If all of you would excuse us, I would like to speak to my dear friend for a moment."

They seemed disappointed, but they could not deny their king. Gazef looked a little disappointed to be left alone, but he knew that you had some catching up to do. With a smile, he squeezed your hand before you left.

Thankfully, Jircniv led you to a balcony with an excellent view of the mountainside. The spring, evening air was brisk against your alcohol-warmed skin.

“Congratulations, again,” you told him.

He shrugged. “I suppose I shall accept.” Now that he was no longer forcing himself to smile, he looked melancholy. Leaning against the railing surrounding the balcony, Jircniv looked out onto the rock formations. You were fairly certain that this mountainside was the one that led to your own home. You mimicked his posture, even if you felt a little sick when you looked down and saw just how far away the ground was. When you didn’t speak, Jircniv said, “I’m sorry that I couldn’t attend your wedding. I’m sure it was a delightful little gathering.”

You rolled your eyes. “It was fine.”

“It’s too bad that you couldn’t take a honeymoon.”

“Yeah. It was unfortunate. But Gazef had more important matters he must have attended to. I didn’t mind.”

“Oh please. Making you happy should be his most important matter.”

“It is.”

“Good,” Jircniv said with a nod. “Especially since your royal blood cements the claim of any children you have to the throne and makes sure that any possible, future complaints that the nobility might have are null and void.” He paused. “It was smart of him, really, not taking a peasant wife.”

You flinched at his haughty tone. At this casual comment, you remembered that your mother and cousin Renner were not the only influences in your casual disdain for the common people.

Turning his head to observe you following your lack of a comment, Jircniv took a moment as he evaluated his expression. Apparently, he did not like what he found there because he sighed and waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, you know it was a good move. I suppose there is a brain in his head. It’s not all muscle.”

“Jircniv,” you warned, turning your torso to look at him fully. Though you were good friends, you would not tolerate his barbed tongue being aimed at Gazef.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, turning away with another dismissive wave of his hand.

When you said nothing, Jircniv turned to see your glare.

“Oh, how scary,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. But the continued force of your expression had his own falling away. You realized that he backed down too easily. “Fine. I _ am _sorry.”

“I’ll have you know that we do love each other.”

“Even though your mother orchestrated his courting of you?” he asked.

“Yes. Even then.”

He nodded. “That’s good. I didn’t really know what to make of your letters. I didn’t think that he was really a man that you would like.”

“I didn’t at first,” you admitted.

“That makes more sense.”

You shrugged. "Our courting went smoothly despite my initial dislike and distrust of him."

"Really?" He looked perplexed at the contradiction in your statement.

"Well, mother had told me that I was to marry him. I had no choice in the matter. So I did what a good lapdog would do and just shut up."

At your diction, Jircniv's brows rose far into his forehead. He brought a fan out of nowhere and flicked it open to start fanning his cheeks. "Goodness, what strong words."

You snorted at the display. "I learned a few."

"Apparently." Despite Jircniv's generally scandalized demeanor, his expression and tone were casual.

"But. Gazef. He was very kind to me."

"Ah, I see," he said.

You nodded. "I started actually looking forward to spending time with him. As cliche as it sounds, I didn't realize that I was in love with him until it was too late."

Jircniv nodded. "You're right."

"About?"

"Your statement is incredibly cliche."

Shoving your shoulder into his, you laughed. "Rude."

"I always am, darling."

You looked over at him again, realizing that he had made the fan disappear as promptly as he had made it appear.

"It's scary when I think about how I almost lost him," you admitted quietly.

Leaning closer to you, Jircniv said, "But you didn't."

"I know."

When neither of you spoke, Jircniv hummed, looked down at his hands, and rubbed his thumb against the smooth stone of the railing. He looked despondent, like half of him was gone. You didn’t remember your old friend being so lifeless. 

“You don’t seem too happy,” you said.

“Odd. I thought that I was positively chipper,” he said with a smirk. But the expression was half-hearted on his mouth, at best. When he glanced over at you, his eyes were full of something mournful. You felt sympathy at the pain in his eyes. Though you were mostly happy in your new life as the queen, you still had bad days that made you want to stay in bed, even if you didn’t sleep, that wore you down until you felt raw and sensitive and _tired_.

“What’s wrong, honey?” you asked.

He sighed, his chest expanding to capacity before emptying in an audible manner. “I don’t know. I thought I’d be happier,” he said softly.

In order to hear him, you had to concentrate all of your attention upon his words. You moved a little closer. 

“My father and I never got along well. You know the best of anyone, really. He never approved of my choices, especially when it came to my choice of romantic partners. He called me a frivolous spendthrift more times than I could count, but,” Jircniv paused and sighed again. “I miss him. I never met my mother and, now, I have lost my father.”

Moving close, you wrapped your arm around his torso. He was so small that you could easily fit your entire arm around him, where it would only reach Gazef’s further shoulder blade when you attempted the same.

Jircniv looked at you and then put his arm around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry. You’re the last person who needs to hear about my dead parents.”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind. If I didn’t want to hear about them, then I wouldn’t have asked you what was wrong.”

“I guess. Father and I never got along well. We always butted heads. But I suppose that he, at least, didn’t try to make me a puppet.”

“It’s something.”

“Sure is.”

Neither of you spoke.

“Do you ever miss your father?” Jircniv asked suddenly. "After all these years."

Nodding, you responded, “I do. He was such a gentle person. He loved nothing more than playing the piano, and he wanted to make sure that I inherited that love. He acted more like a parent than my mother ever did.” You sighed.

“Father always told me about mother when I was small, how much she loved flowers and clothes.”

A small smile bloomed on your lips. “Is that why you’re so fashion-minded?”

Jircniv shrugged. “Clothes always made me feel a little closer to her.”

Your smile grew wider. “And then you passed it to me.”

“Well, I can’t, in good conscience, have my best friend looking like a little beast.”

You laughed, and Jircniv joined you.

He sighed. “Look at us. A pair of fucking orphans.”

“I’m not an orphan,” you said quietly. “My mother is alive.”

“She might as well be dead, not just to you but to society.”

You shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.”

He only responded with a hum. 

However, as quickly as his moment for soul-searching came, it went. Jircniv always acted in such a way. It was as if he was afraid of taking his own emotions seriously. Placing his arm back to his side, he drummed his fingers on the railing, making soft noises against the dense stone. You also moved your hand to the railing. "Speaking of mothers," he so casually segwayed. "Are you going to become one anytime soon?"

"Not to my knowledge," you responded with a sigh.

"I'm really not one for giving advice, but your kingdom is getting antsy for lack of an heir," he said.

"Should you really be giving away the fact that you have spies in my kingdom so easily? Your advisors will be positively furious if our conversation gets back to them."

Jircniv rolled his eyes and waved his hand. "Oh, please, darling. I don't need _ spies _ to guess that people worry about their ruler croaking without having some sort of relative that can pick up the slack. I mean, for goodness' sake, _ my _advisors have been trying to marry me off and have some poor woman popping out children for me even when my father's body was barely cold."

You snorted out a laugh. While it wasn't very _ ladylike_, you didn't really care. You were still slightly tipsy, and Jircniv could hardly fault your indiscretions when he was saying things that were much worse.

"And, sure, the intel certainly helps."

In response, you just laughed at Jircniv's candid admission that he had spies in the Re-estize Kingdom. You did know that your home had their own sources of information all around, as well.

"But you can tell me. You know I won't tell anyone."

"I'm not. Really."

"I can understand why you wouldn't want to get your hopes up if you aren't sure yet."

"I'm serious. I'm not pregnant," you said firmly.

He raised his hands in defeat and walked over to the far side of the balcony, plopping down on one of the benches. "Alright. That's fair."

With a sigh, you leaned on the railing and looked forward, out onto the view of the mountains. It really was excellent. The sight was almost enough to make you forget about Jircniv's prodding. You almost wished that the capital of the Re-estize was so close to the mountain pass that connected your lands. Then you would be able to look out on it, pensive, whenever some serious matter reared its head.

"(Name)! Gazef called.

You looked over your shoulder, about to shake your head when he continued.

"I don't think I'll survive another moment around the Baharuth nobles without you by my side," your husband said as he strolled up to you.

"Oh, I absolutely agree," Jircniv piped up. "They're _ dreadful_."

As Gazef realized that his comment had an audience, his body froze, but he turned his head slightly to the side to look over at your friend.

"Ah, Jircniv. I didn't see you there."

You walked over to Gazef and leaned into his side, patting the small of his back in a comforting gesture. At your familiar touch, he seemed to relax slightly.

"Clearly." Jircniv shrugged, rolling one delicate shoulder. "But I agree with you completely. The nobility of my land are an acquired taste. One I never truly acquired."

Gazef just nodded in response. 

"It's so funny that you happened to join us. We were _ just _ discussing how we were almost married."

At his statement, you instantly looked up and narrowed your eyes. You most certainly were not. You wondered what his purpose was with the statement. Was he _ trying _ to bother Gazef?

Nodding again, Gazef said, "I see."

Jircniv's smile widened just a bit, but then he stood up and pat his hands against his suit pants. "Well, I ought to be getting back to them before they come looking for me. As is, I've spent too much time being relaxed."

You and Gazef bid him a good night as he strolled back into the party.

Once he was gone, Gazef tilted his head to the left and tried to look past the windowed doors. Clearly, he had grown somewhat paranoid about Jircniv.

"Were you two really discussing your almost match?" he asked, apparently satisfied that no one else was listening.

You raised a brow. "Why? Are you jealous?"

Gazef snorted out a laugh. "No, just curious."

You smirked before relaxing your mouth. "No. He was trying to find out if I was pregnant."

"I see," Gazef said. He walked the two of you over to the secluded part of the balcony where Jircniv had been sitting. Sliding an arm around your back, he pulled you towards his chest and then walked forward until your backside rested against the railing. As Gazef looked over you, his eyes were half-lidded, and his arms moved to hold the stone on either side of you, boxing you in on the hidden side. You tried to look past him to the doors but could not. 

"What's the big idea?" you asked with a small smile. 

He pressed his front to yours and, though you could not feel his cock past all the fabric, you could tell that he was already hard. He must have snuck away to the restroom to fix its position since you were in a teasing sort of mood. Leaning his face close, Gazef whispered, "I think I'm tired and would like to retire to our quarters."

What a _ liar_. 

"Would you like to join me?" As he spoke, his lips were just barely touching yours. You could smell the mix of champagne and chocolate on his breath.

You nodded.

*

Gazef's hands were all over your back as he tugged on the lacing of your bodice while your arms were on his shoulders, tugging him close. Your mouths moved quickly against one another, and lips pressed together in a blurry dance of tongues and teeth. Once the laces were slack, your dress grew loose around your shoulders. You dropped your hands from Gazef's shoulders to tug the fabric down, and he helped, pulling it past your hips. When you danced out of his arms and sat on the bed, he tugged the material from around your legs and threw it on a nearby chair. Gazef undid his coat and placed it on top of your dress. His shirt was white underneath, matching his socks. When your husband approached you again, you undid the buttons of his pants and pushed them down his legs, taking the chance to run your fingers down his legs. He was not wearing any underwear. With a grin, you looked up to find that Gazef's shirt was completely undone.

You made quick work of the rest of his clothing, and then Gazef pulled your underdress up from your body, his hands groping your thighs and ass along the way.

"You seem eager today," you breathed, crawling backwards on the bed to get over to the headboard.

Gazef followed you, walking over on his knees. With every step, his cock bobbed. "I did promise that I'd make you scream tonight," he said, voice already a rumble.

Nodding seriously, you said, "I suppose that I do remember you making such a statement."

When he reached you, Gazef sat back on his legs and placed his hands on your cheeks to pull you close for a kiss. Even with both of you seated, he was still so much taller than you, and he had to lean towards your face to make contact. The two of you quickly resumed your brisk pace from earlier, lips mashing together in relative carelessness. You reached for his cock. Gazef responded with a small rumble deep in his chest as your hand closed around the thick shaft and started to pump.

After a moment of indulging you, Gazef breathed in audibly and wrapped his hand around your own. "No, no. Enough of that."

You whined pitifully and frowned. "Why not?"

Taking hold of your waist, Gazef picked you up and walked back on the bed, further away from the headboard. Once he was satisfied with your position, he placed you back on the mattress and then tugged on your thighs until you flopped back onto the pillows. 

He leaned down, straddling your almost closed legs, until his mouth was against your breasts. Wasting no time, Gazef captured one nipple—already perky—between his lips and gently pressed his teeth down on either side. Then he sucked at it hard, his hands exploring your sides and the soft flesh of your hips. Your own arms were around his head, pulling him closer to your chest and running your fingers through his thick hair. Setting the pace to be rather brisk, Gazef turned his attention to your neglected nipple and brought it into his mouth, too, before kissing down to the place where your breast met your ribs. He nipped at the skin and sucked until a mark formed. Content with his work, Gazef licked and kissed the bruise. Then he moved to the spot mirroring the first, just under your left breast, to make your first hickey a companion. Meanwhile, his fingers rubbed and massaged your thighs, working them open until your muscles were tight with anticipation. Your flesh trembled under his touch. 

The longer he touched the inside of your thighs—but not your cunt, where you wanted him most—the more desperate you became. You could feel the gathered lubrication between your folds, and you huffed out a hard breath when a drop broke free and slid down along the curve of your ass. 

"Please touch me."

Gazef's eyes, dark and lusty, looked up from your chest for just a moment. The gaze lasted long enough to tell you that, though he heard you, he had no intention of doing as you asked.

You whimpered and bucked your hips up in an attempt to draw his attention there. However, he continued doing as he pleased, sucking dark marks into the skin around your breasts until you were worried that your maids would see them when they would help you dress in the morning. 

A hand brushed up to the juncture of your thigh and squeezed hard before returning to the outside.

Desperate, you moaned and bucked again. "Gazef," you whined, voice pitched and breathy. "Please. Touch me. I want to feel your fingers spreading me open."

Though he did n0t respond, the bob of his cock drew your eye. You made an attempt to reach a hand down to it, but Gazef caught it and laced his fingers through your own.

"Naughty," he breathed against your skin. The rush of hot air had you shivering.

"Please," you whimpered. "I want your cock. Fuck me."

"No," he responded.

You groaned in disappointment. However, you couldn't deny that his teasing was having more than the desired effect. And you _ loved _ that he was taking control.

Returning to your nipples, he kissed and nipped and sucked at them until they were pebbles once more.

"You know," Gazef said. He kissed the flat of your breast bone one more time before straightening his back and sitting back on his legs. 

The sight of his cock drew your eyes to it. It looked so hard and neglected. Your lips parted at the sight. From above, the sound of Gazef breathing out hard had you looking up. He was focused on your face, clearly having seen where your eyes had been and your resulting expression.

"Now that you've teased me in the middle of the third party in less than a month and a half, I'm starting to notice a pattern," he said. His tone was slightly scolding, but the rumble of his voice had you shivering.

You were too horny to be bashful or remember to feign shame.

"Nothing to say for yourself?"

It took longer than you would have liked to string together a response. "You caught me," you said. Bending your knees, you dragged your feet along the mattress and moved them far apart. You could feel your labia open, revealing the copious slick gathered there. "What will you do about it?"

Gazef shrugged and lay down between your spread legs. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, simultaneously pulling them apart to accommodate his head and placing his fingertips on your labia to spread it. Without any other smirks or teasing words, Gazef brought his face close and immediately shoved his tongue into your entrance.

Your eyes fluttered closed as your back arched from the pleasure. The spread of his tongue already had your walls clenching down on it. The more he pumped the muscle into you, the more you realized that you had been so wet, you didn't even notice the addition of his saliva. A thumb pressed against your clit in lazy circles, and you tensed your legs, tightening your thighs around Gazef's head for just a moment. Relaxing with a moan, you arched your back and pushed your pussy closer to his mouth. You whimpered when he removed the thick muscle of his tongue. But then his lips were around the little nub, giving it a harsh suck—a delicious contrast to his earlier treatment that had your body tensing all over. His tongue slid out, down along your slit, the flat of it dragging against your clit. Voicing your pleasure, you tried to buck your hips, but the muscles of Gazef's arms tensed and kept you in place.

Alternating between the languid drag of his tongue and the harsh sucking of his lips, Gazef was quickly forcing your body to the point of orgasm after denying you his touch for so fucking long. 

With a long whine, you tensed your body and arched your back off the mattress. You weren't sure that you had ever finished so quickly before. 

It was _ amazing_.

But then he stopped. For a moment, you didn't realize what Gazef was doing. You looked down at him, absolutely dumbfounded, and he made eye contact with you. His gaze was even as he puckered his lips and blew on your clit. The movement of air was cold against your overheated cunt, and you twitched.

Then he leaned back down and, for just a second, you thought that he was going to return to what he had been doing, but then he just kissed the inside of your right thigh. His teeth sunk into the flesh, and you bucked and whimpered. 

Your orgasm was quickly slipping through your fingers, and your body—overheating and tense from being denied—mirrored your disappointment.

"Why?" you finally whined.

Gazef didn't answer. He just gave you a _ look _ and then returned his mouth to your cunt. You shut your eyes tight with a whimper at the ferocity with which he returned to eating you. The earlier, relaxed pace was gone, and his tongue moved faster than it ever had before. You moaned over and over, trying to press your body closer, attempting to wrap your legs around Gazef's head, but he held your legs in place through all your squirming and struggling. You just _ knew _ that he was going to edge you again, deny you the release that he had been working you towards for so long.

This time, when he wrapped his lips around the nub and gave it a harsh suck, you arched your back off the bed. You could feel your body quickly returning to the peak. "Please, please let me finish this time," you begged.

And it seemed like he would. Gazef's mouth continued to move and lick at you until your heart was racing, and you were tense with the force of the orgasm that threatened to break.

But, again, he pulled back just before.

You cried out desperately, tears filling the corners of your eyes. 

While he waited, Gazef brought his mouth to the inside of your left thigh, sucking another dark mark into your flesh.

You would be covered in hickies by the end of the night. 

When he returned once more, your body was too close to last too much longer. You could immediately feel the tension in your belly, the threat of hitting orgasm right then and there.

Of course, Gazef stopped after just a few licks. "Wow," he breathed. "It seems like you're already about to finish."

You whined. "Please, please, please," you begged. All you could think about was the desperation you felt and the overwhelming need to finish.

"Fine," he acquiesced. When he returned his mouth to you this time, he didn't stop until your walls were clenching down hard around nothing, wave after wave after wave of pleasure breaking over your previously tension-filled body. You screamed for him, babbling thanks and begging for more. Gazef didn't stop licking until your legs grew slack in his grip and hands fell away from his hair. To tease you one, last time—or, perhaps, make a point—he sucked at your clit.

You whimpered, even more oversensitive than usual from cumming just that hard.

Stepping off the bed, Gazef looked over to you. You felt too boneless and satisfied from finally finishing to move, and he didn't wait long before wrapping his hands around your hips and pulling you to the edge of the bed. You squeaked with surprise and delight, giggling weakly as you looked up at him. Your eyes dropped lower, until you got the full view of his cock: red and leaking pre-cum and so hard that it was attempting to press to his abdomen. In response to the sight of him, your walls clenched, reminding you that, despite how hard you had cum, the part of him that you wanted most still hadn’t been inside you.

You looked up, and Gazef met your eyes, his own half-lidded as they slid down the sight of your body. Threading his well-muscled arms under your knees and taking hold of your hips, he raised your lower body even more off the mattress than it previously had been, and you were reminded of Gazef’s very impressive strength. The thought had your cunt gushing with even more slick. As Gazef held your hips just suspended over the mattress, he bent one of his knees, pressing it into the surface, while the other just leaned against the side. His left hand shifted from your right hip to the small of your back. Then he let go of your left side before gripping his shaft. You didn’t even shift, his hold on you was so solid. When he pressed the head of his cock into your entrance, you moaned and tensed, your walls immediately clamping around the intrusion. Even with how long and how much the two of you had been fucking, your body wasn't as prepared as it could have been with only Gazef's tongue to stretch you.

Gazef breathed out hard but made no other noise.

After he readjusted his hold on your hips once more, he slowly moved into your body, his cock wide. It felt even bigger than usual. You whimpered as he slowly filled you. By the time Gazef was balls-deep, he had his eyes closed. Slowly, he breathed in and out.

You recognized his demeanor. He was trying to hold back from just cumming. Well, he had spent so long teasing you that he didn’t have any time to attend to his own needs. The temptation to tease alighted in your lust-drunk mind, but then Gazef abruptly pulled back and then thrust forward again. His cock rubbed along every sensitive spot all along your walls and, instead of opening your mouth to ask Gazef if he was going to drain his balls inside you, you opened it to gasp and exclaim from the pleasure of the friction.

This position had you angled just right for every thrust forward and tug back to feel so good that it brought tears to your eyes.

Gripping the fitted sheet on either side of your head, you could only hold on tight as Gazef’s pace quickly turned fast and hard. He started pounding into you in a way about which you had only dreamed. With your hips suspended in the air, you felt like he was just using your body for his pleasure, and it only turned you on more.

Your mind jumped to the words that you didn’t have a chance to give a voice, and you wished that he would just fill you with his cum. Every time the hot streaks landed on your chest or your belly, you wondered how it would feel to have Gazef spill himself inside you. Would you be able to feel the gathered seed all the way inside you? Your eyes just filled with more tears at the thought, walls pressing hard down on Gazef’s shaft, trying to milk him even without you cumming around his cock.

He moaned from above you. For a moment, his pace faltered, and his eyes fluttered closed. But then they were open again, focused on you and watching as you held on tight to the sheets. His lower jaw moved from side to side as Gazef’s eyes focused on the sight of your bouncing breasts as then moved down to your cunt taking his cock and leaking slick.

The longer Gazef fucked you, the more brutal his pace became, until he was filling you fast and hard. Your toes curled, legs tensing at the sensation of being filled over and over.

You couldn’t even say anything, your lips only opening to moan and whimper and encourage your husband to fuck you more and more.

With a hard, final thrust, Gazef filled you all the way and then pulled out, his cock slapping against your belly in the process, while he covered your breasts in rope and rope of his hot spend. For a longer time than usual, Gazef stayed still after his own orgasm.

You could barely keep your eyes open any longer as he gently placed your feet on the floor and left to get a towel to clean your torso. When you next opened them, you were already laying along the bed, head on your pillows, with Gazef right beside you and his arm around your torso. Making a small noise, you cuddled back towards him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, voice soft.

"Tired," you said. Some part of you was sore, but you didn't mind this kind of discomfort.

"That's good. I was worried I got a little too rough there."

Your lips spread into a wide, sleepy grin. "I loved it, especially when you were rough."

Gazef sighed and just said, "Good night." His lips pressed to your temple.

"Night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a fucking sub, and I just want Gazef to top me. Unph.  
Thanks for coming to my TED talk. 


	37. Chapter 37

"And that whore Albedo dared to confront me in the middle of the cafe. I swear, she simply cannot control herself," Shalltear seethed. 

Before continuing, she took a deep breath, and you simply nodded sympathetically.

"She accused me of bending your ear about her, and she claims that it's the reason why you haven't invited her for tea at the castle when she's _ always _ been _ horrible _ to you. Well, ever since you decided to befriend me instead of her. Goodness gracious, she is _ such _ a petty _ bitch_," Shalltear said, the disdain simply dripping from her words. Such vitriol was nothing new, and you had long since lost your sympathy for Albedo. The day you decided that you would be friends with Shalltear was one where she turned her poison towards you, as well. 

You snickered into your hand.

Shalltear smirked beside you, patting your arm, which was intertwined with hers as the two of you made your way around the great hall. The gathered nobility was playing cards and generally trying to enjoy themselves on such a dull and dreary, overcast spring day. You just wished that they didn’t feel the need to congregate in the castle. Despite your distaste for their company, you always had to make sure to make an appearance for at least an hour a day, and play cards or drink tea. The only times you truly enjoyed yourself was when Shalltear visited because the others tended to give you a wider berth when she was around, and you could still claim that you had spent time with the nobility. 

"Oh, Lady Albedo has been making quite a disgrace of herself recently," Lady Genevieve said from behind you.

Both you and Shalltear stopped and turned to look at the sycophants, who had been idly walking after you as you made your rounds. You looked over your left shoulder and Shalltear her right. You were sure that the two of you made a pretty picture, mirroring each other's movements. Quite frankly, you had forgotten that the others were there. The four ladies trailing behind the two of you were the ones that had followed you around before, just with a newly developed inferiority complex. They had slunk back into your good graces with their proverbial tails between their legs ever since you became queen, and you allowed it, though you briefly considered not doing such a thing. It was a nice, petty feeling—for a moment, anyway, before you remembered that you were no longer an outcast and, thus, had to act the part. 

"Truly, it's atrocious," Lady Polly, Lady Genevieve's younger sister, supported her statement.

"I wasn't really aware," you said airily. 

With a vigorous nod, Lady Katherine leaned slightly forward, as if she were about to share some salacious secret with the utmost delight, and said, "I think she's jealous of you, your majesty. Even though she prefers Lord Gown, she was not happy to see the nobility rally behind you now that you are queen."

"Wow!" you said, raising your brows as if in shock. "Albedo? Jealous of me? Perish the thought."

The sycophants tittered.

Then you and Shalltear turned forward again and resumed your casual pace, and you promptly rolled your eyes. You forgot just how stupid the rest of them were.

"Did you have to allow the trash into the castle, dearest?" Shalltear asked quietly, her lips barely moving as she formed the words.

"Hush. The trash will hear you," you responded in a similar tone.

Shalltear smirked but said nothing. 

The two of you continued to make your way around the hall, and you let your attention drift off to the background noise of the room, casually listening in to the gossip of the court. Certainly, the nobles' thoughts were idle, but their mouths were not. Perhaps you would hear something particularly juicy and, depending on the information, it might make spending time with them worth it.

"It has been _ four months_, and we have yet to hear _ any _ news at all," said a voice you recognized as belonging to Lord Arterbury, one of the bigger gossips of the court. 

Thinking back, you tried to recall if anything of note happened four months ago, other than your wedding, of course. But you failed. Perhaps you did not know the event that Lord Arterbury and his companion—or companions?—were discussing. Maybe it was something relatively secret, and this bit of gossip really was rather juicy. You focused more thoroughly on their conversation and, luckily, it appeared that you were approaching their couch, anyway. Lord Arterbury and Lady Varanthus were seated on one of the black couches decorating the grand hall. Despite the saucy nature of their conversation, they certainly didn't look like they were trying to hide that they were speaking. 

"Four months is not enough to know for certain, you silly man," responded Lady Varanthus.

"Yes, but there are _ some _ signs, are there not?" he retorted.

"Well, certainly, but the female form is so unpredictable that some signs might be something for one woman and nothing for another."

Female form? What could they possibly be discussing? You, Shalltear, and the sycophants walked up to the couch where the two gossipers were chatting, but they had their backs to your little party. 

"Yes, but you'd think that they would at least be _ trying_."

"And who is to say that they are not?"

"Well, the servants said that she does not seem to ever think on it or bring it up."

"Lucian, darling, some women are more sensitive about such matters than others."

"Yes. But to not ever discuss it at all? To be so careful that the servants don't overhear even the smallest bit?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Perhaps our dear queen really is as barren as they say."

You froze. Immediately, everything made sense. And, indeed, your wedding was exactly the event of four months ago to which they had been referring. 

Shalltear tensed beside you.

"Lucian. Miranda. How utterly droll of you to regurgitate such baseless rumors within the castle walls," she said.

The two gossips turned around in shock. Upon realizing just who had overheard them, both of them immediately had the color drain from their faces—faces that looked terribly guilty, likely only _ because _ they had been discovered. Some of the nearby nobles stopped what they were doing to watch the gossipers' humiliation. 

Standing, they bowed down before you, keeping their eyes averted even as you permitted them to stand. 

"Your majesty, I am so sorry that you had to hear that," Lord Arterbury said. He couldn't look at you. 

Lady Varanthus just nodded desperately along with his words.

"Oh?" you asked. "But not sorry you said it, I assume?"

At your question, their faces grew even more pale. Lord Arterbury started backpedaling hard. "Of course not! Your majesty! I would never!"

"But you were just insulting me by repeating that rumor, were you not? And now, again, when you apologized simply for my _ hearing _ the insult?" Did they think you to stupid to understand their real meaning, or did they just assume that you would refrain from commenting on the wording of the sentence?

All around you, the other nobles had quieted down. Even Shalltear raised her eyebrow when you spoke for your own, but she kept her own face carefully composed. You felt like you were on display, playing your part in a show. Now, with the full attention of the court, you had an important decision to make. Let them off too easily, and the others would think you weak. However, levy too harsh a punishment, and they would turn against you. You assumed most of them had allowed the rumor to pass their lips. 

Looking for all the world like you were bored, you shook your head. "You must truly think me a fool. Leave my sight. I have no patience for your childish pursuits."

Lady Varanthus sunk into a low curtsy, and Lord Arterbury followed with his own low bow. The two of them then scuttled away as fast as politely possible without breaking out into a full run.

The room was silent, their footsteps the only thing ringing through the air.

Once you could no longer hear them, you took a cursory look around the room, finding that the other nobles had averted their gazes to their own matters. You continued to look bored as you made your way to the exit from the grand hall that lead further into castle. As you walked, your party was completely silent, but you were considering this rumor. If the two biggest rumor mills in the city were running their mouths then, surely, the rest of the nobility must be aware of it. Shalltear certainly would have heard it, yet she kept it from you. 

You did _ not _appreciate it. 

Once you had returned to your quarters, you walked towards the decanter of whiskey that Gazef liked and poured yourself a glass. The others were silent. They didn't sit on the couches—or even move further into the room, for that matter. Remaining stock still beside the doors, the sycophants just watched you. Shalltear, in particular, was looking at the floor.

You shot the whiskey back and let it burn your throat on the way down. It helped to distract you from the betrayal you felt.

"I assume you all knew," you stated.

"Your majesty, it's utter folly!" Lady Genevieve said.

With a nod, you poured yourself more whiskey.

"We didn't want to bother your majesty with such vile rumors," Lady Diane said. "They would only make matters worse."

You looked in Shalltear's direction. She couldn't meet your eye.

"I think I need to rest. I'm sorry to cut our afternoon short."

The others just nodded and curtsied. Silent, they exited your rooms. You stared at your whiskey.

Of course, you realized what the people expected of you. You had to provide the kingdom with an heir, especially since Gazef had no siblings, but you had been enjoying _ just _ being with Gazef. When you got married, you had been in no rush to have children. And Gazef never said anything about them so you assumed that he felt the same way.

Really, you had been afraid to say anything about them because of your experiences with your own mother.

You spent the rest of the day in silence. Though you tried to read, you could not get your mind off the matter of the rumor. 

Of course, you were also silent through dinner. Gazef tried to chat, but you only nodded or gave him single-word answers.

He didn't bring up anything about your afternoon.

After the two of you got ready for bed, Gazef curled up against your back. Kissing the back of your head, he muttered, "Would you be interested?" His hand lazily moved up and down your right hip.

Your answer was not immediate. You considered his question, even tried to push away the matter of the rumor from your mind. If anything would help you think about something else, it was definitely Gazef's cock. But you couldn't just pretend that you didn't hear what you had. 

"I'm not feeling well," was your response. It was the first time that you had said no to Gazef when it came to carnal matters. Indeed, you were usually the one climbing into his lap with the intent of getting a rise out of him. A strange guilt manifested in your belly, making you feel even worse than you already had. Not only were you rejecting him, but also you were lying about the reason. 

"Okay," he said in response and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. When he leaned back, he asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

You shook your head. Now, you were certain that the events of the afternoon had somehow evaded his notice. His genuine kindness and desire to make sure that you were always healthy and happy wrapped around your heart like a vice and squeezed. Trying not to burst into tears, you moved a little more to your left to make sure that he could not see your face and said, "I just need some rest. I think I should be back to normal tomorrow morning."

Gazef responded with a "That's good."

"Goodnight," you said.

"Goodnight," he echoed. "I love you."

"I love you, too," you responded. 


	38. Chapter 38 (NSFW)

The heavy footfalls of Gazef's steps approached you from behind as you stood before a great bookcase. You couldn't help the small smile that graced your features even as you stayed in place, pretending that you didn't notice his approach. To continue the charade, you placed your finger on the spine of a nearby book, dragging it up the side as you read the title, _ An Early History of the Vaiself_, without really registering it. Gazef placed his arms on your waist, running his fingers forward until his fingers were interlaced on your belly. You relaxed into his touch and leaned your head back onto his shoulder as you brought your hands up to rest over his. 

"I missed you today," you murmured. Absentmindedly, you dragged your fingertips up and down along the hills and groves his fingers created.

Gazef rested his cheek on the top of your head. "I missed you, too."

You smiled to yourself at his response.

"What were you doing today?" he inquired, voice half-muffled by the odd angle from which he was speaking.

"I finished the book I was reading just in time for lunch, and then I visited Shalltear," you said. It had been quite lovely, as a matter of fact. Shalltear had much to complain about following the most recent ball—mostly that you did not attend.

"How is Shalltear doing?"

"She's very angry that I missed last night's ball."

You could feel the vibrations from Gazef's chuckle against your back. "She must be very angry with me, then."

"I didn't tell her why I didn't attend. Just that I wasn't feeling well."

"I'm surprised that she didn't force the information from you."

"She certainly tried." You thought about how Shalltear kept pestering you. "But I'm very proud of myself for keeping the truth from her. It's okay if she's angry with me, but I have to protect you from her rages."

"I will be the most protected king with you as my personal royal guard," he said. 

You giggled at the thought. "Rest assured: you shall." From the position of his cheek atop your head, you could feel that he smiled.

"Did anything exciting happen at the ball?"

"Well. Apparently, Shalltear and Albedo had a very public argument. That was certainly exciting."

"But not good," Gazef said absentmindedly.

"No," you agreed. "As Shalltear tells it, Albedo started it by insulting her dress. However, I think she would say that even if she openly mocked Albedo first, resulting in Albedo's less-than-positive reaction."

Chuckling, Gazef said, "I do believe you are correct."

You grinned. "I know."

He snorted with laughter. "And so modest."

"Oh, truly. There was never a more modest queen," you agreed.

Gazef laughed and pressed you closer to his chest in a momentary squeeze. "I love you," he said.

"I love you, too."

For a few moments, neither of you moved, content as you were. Then Gazef said your name.

You hummed inquisitively in response. 

Straightening up from his earlier position but keeping his hands around you, Gazef spoke, "I want to have a baby."

Now, his hands being on your belly felt purposeful, and you froze. The rumors and constant pestering immediately came to mind. 

"But the decision is ultimately yours," he said. "I don't want to force you to do something you don't want to do."

With his new words, you felt some of the earlier frost melting away. This request was coming from Gazef, not your mother. And it was truly a request. You believed him when he said that the decision was up to you even though you knew that every day that passed without news of a pregnancy only made you look worse in the eyes of the empire.

"(Name)?" Gazef asked. This time, there was some concern in his voice, and you realized that you had yet to say anything in response to his words. 

"I'm not sure," you said.

You could feel him relax against you, which was odd. You hadn't even realized that he had grown tense.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because." At a loss for words, you paused. "What if. I'm. A bad mother?" You didn't need to point out that you didn't have a good model when it came to such matters. 

Gazef pressed closer to you. "I think you worrying about that matter means that you'll be fine." 

Looking up at him, you found that he was already gazing down at you. His expression was gentle, full of love. You never thought that anyone would look at you this way, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. Gazef pressed his lips against your temple. But he did not move back before speaking, and you could feel the gentle movements against your forehead. "I don't know how to raise a child, either. And, being a mercenary and then a bodyguard for so long, I didn't think that I would be able to have a child. Or even get married. But we can figure it out together. I'll be here, with you. However, if you decide that you don't want to have children, then that's fine, too. Having you is enough for me. We don't have to have children if you don't want to have them."

"But." You started, but you stopped your own protest. It was silly.

"What's wrong?"

"I. I know what the court says about me. That I'm." You hesitated. "I'm broken. That I _ cannot _ give you a child."

"You and I both know that's not true."

"But is it?" you asked. It felt like a silly point to make since you hadn't even tried but, now that you were discussing the matter, you began to worry about your own reproductive capabilities. 

"It's certainly a possibility, but I don't know if you should even worry about something like that at this point."

Turning in Gazef's arms, you looked up at his face. Your husband matched your gaze. His lips were downturned, and you could tell that he didn't like all this talk of you being somehow broken. One of his hands moved up from the small of your back to press against your jaw. His thumb moved up and down slowly, caressing the cheek. 

"There shouldn't be any reason for you to be infertile." Gazef made sure that you were looking into his eyes when he continued. "Besides, the matter of us having a child is between _ us_."

"But what will the court think?"

"I don't care what they think," Gazef said simply. 

"But. You need an heir." You looked down at the ground. In the eyes of the nobles—even the entire empire—you were failing in your duty as queen. "You don't have any other relatives. And the empire would never accept the ascent of a Vaiself to the throne. Not after everything that happened."

"(Name)," Gazef said.

Looking up at him, you found that he was smiling. Gazef leaned forward, pulling you close to him, and pressed a kiss to your lips. The pressure—the warmth—of his mouth against yours distracted you completely. Running your hands up his chest, you wrapped them around his neck. His body felt so reassuringly solid against yours, it was strange to think that you were once put off by him. You leaned in closer, flattening your chest against his abdomen and pressing your belly close. 

When he broke the kiss, Gazef surveyed the sight of you so close to him. A small smile played on his lips. "Are you trying to distract me?" he asked. You could feel the slight stretch in your arms and shoulders as he straightened up from his earlier position.

"I thought that was what you were doing." You smirked. "Distract me more."

Gazef acquiesced and moved his face towards yours once again. The thought that he indulged you too much passed through your mind before you quashed it. Sometimes, being indulgent towards the person you loved was not a problem, and neither was being the object of those indulgences. You loved feeling his mouth, and you eagerly encouraged his kisses and attention with those of your own. The longer your exchange went on, the stronger Gazef's reaction grew. It grew so much that you could feel his reaction poking your belly. When you pulled away from his mouth, you only did so to press your abdomen closer and see Gazef's response. Unfortunately, your husband was good at being stoic when he wanted to be, and his expression remained perfectly even as you reached between your bodies to rub the length of his cock.

"We never finished speaking," he said as a reminder.

You deflated a measure but kept your fingers where they were. "Is that so?" you asked.

Gazef smirked. "Yes, that is the case." When you didn't move to respond, Gazef spoke instead. "I just want to know how you feel on the matter. A yes or a no." He paused for a moment but, when he spoke up again, his voice had dropped lower. "Please."

You stopped playing with him and averted your eyes. "I know that we _ have _ to have a child. It's not a matter of want."

"I'm saying it's a matter of want. I want you to be happy with our decision."

Looking up into Gazef's eyes, you saw no hint that he was lying. Truly, you had not expected one. Gazef had always been honest with you, even when that honesty had threatened your relationship, even when he had nothing to gain by it.

"I love you," you said. It was less a declaration and more of a statement. "And I trust you." He had done so much for your happiness that you didn't think it unfair to push your own uncertainty in his favor. There was so much to be scared about in regards to the matter of a child, but you would have him beside you. "And I think that you would be a wonderful father. So I think that I'm willing to try."

He smiled and pulled you into a hug. His erection, though wilted some after the serious turn of events, was still pressing against you, and you decided to take advantage of this opportunity. Pulling Gazef back down to your mouth, you kissed him hungrily, perhaps too quickly and certainly too loudly. You could hear the wet noises of your lips smacking in the quiet of the royal library. It was a good thing that no one else was there.

Gazef pulled back, but his eyes stayed fixed on your mouth. 

“We should go to our bedroom,” he said.

Smirking, you shrugged. “Should we really?” You didn’t mind the thrill of mild exhibitionism.

“Do you really want to risk dropping the shelf and all of these books with it?” he inquired.

You glanced behind you at the shelves laden with tomes and volumes. “No,” you said. “But there are chairs. And walls.”

“And anyone can walk in.”

“We’d hear them,” you said, dragging your hands down the sides of his arms. Underneath his clothing, you could feel the bumps and falls of the ample muscles of his arms.

“And they would hear us.”

You pouted.

“Besides.” Gazef leaned down and pressed another kiss to your lips, this one far more gentle than the ones you previously exchanged. “I want to see you naked under me as I fill you up.” As he spoke, Gazef’s gaze grew darker. His tone filled with lust. You felt the desire rise in your abdomen as a physical ache in response to his words.

“That sounds reasonable,” you said simply.

Gazef smiled in response, which looked out of place with his otherwise lusty expression. “That’s good.”

The journey back to your shared quarters was quick since neither you nor Gazef wanted to wait any longer than you already had. After the two of you were in the room, you leaned back against the door to close it, and Gazef followed your movement, placing his arms on either side of your head. His eyes wandered up and down your body, devouring what he could see of your silhouette from this angle, but he paused on the sight of your chest—what little of it was not covered in fabric. 

“What are you thinking?” you ventured.

Gazef raised his eyes to meet yours, and the weight of his gaze summoned a wave of heat between your legs. “About how much I want to see you on our bed. Completely naked. And spread for me.”

You felt another wave of heat pass through your body. 

The subtle whisper of his fingers against the wood of the door told you that his hand was sliding down the door, but the press of his arm against yours and then your side warned you of its destination. To aid his mission, you curled your back forward. You could feel his fingers undoing the buttons of your bodice, one after the other. Reaching for his pants, you tugged on the ties holding them in place and pulled his torso closer to yours.

“Gazef,” you whispered. He leaned down to kiss you, but it didn’t take long for his tongue to slip past your already-open lips. You didn't even notice that his hand had finished its work behind your back, not until the rough tips of his fingers brushed the dip of your spine, all the way down to the sensitive skin above the curve of your buttocks. The tissue-thin chemise that served as a barrier between your body and the dress might as well have not been there. Shivering, you tightened your grip around his broad neck.

"You're wearing too much," he commented. His hands tugged gently on the fabric covering your shoulders as you returned your hands to your sides. With your arms lowered, Gazef could pull at your sleeves. He seemed eager to remove them, but he was careful not to tear the fabric again. You helped him in his goal, pulling on the end of your sleeve to move it down your arm faster. The two of you worked quickly, and the bodice of your dress sagged forward once it was no longer secured. Gazef's impatient hands cupped your breasts through your chemise. He pinched the right peak between his thumb and forefinger, resulting in an immediate reaction. You mewled, and you could feel your nipple harden in response to his ministrations. Gazef did not relent, and his fingers continued to tug and pull, the left hand mimicking the right. You pressed your thighs together to try to distract your body from the _ need _ you felt at the sensation of Gazef's touch. Instead of allowing Gazef to continue take control, you returned to what you were doing with his pants, and you shoved them down his thighs. You were delighted to find that he was wearing nothing underneath. Your husband had the modesty to pause at your discovery but, when you wrapped your hand around the base of his already erect cock, he continued teasing your already stiff nipples. They strained against the fabric, and Gazef whispered, "I want to taste you."

The admission had you tightening your fingers around the thick flesh in your hands. “Then do so.”

Gazef’s fingers released your nipples, and he pushed the dress and petticoat down, over your hips, so they could fall to the floor. Meanwhile, you pulled your chemise up over your shoulders and deposited it on the floor with the rest of your clothing. Then Gazef grabbed the backs of your thighs to lift you to his body and press you close. He walked the two of you over to the bed this way, his cock pressed tight against your cunt. You could feel the heat of it, and you had to resist the urge to grind into him as he walked. Though Gazef’s range of movement was limited by the pants around his hips, he walked over to the bed and gently deposited you on top of it. Immediately, he went down on his knees and pulled your thighs onto his shoulders, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. The scruff of his beard brushed against your sensitive skin, but the vaguely ticklish sensation felt good in the haze of your lust. You moaned, and Gazef paused. 

You looked down at him over the surface of your abdomen.

The smirk coloring Gazef’s mouth was unmistakable, and you squirmed at the sight. He didn’t often wear such an expression and, when he did, it was only with you, teasing. 

“What?” you asked, your voice breathless.

“You make such pretty sounds for me,” he responded. Then he lunged forward and enveloped the sensitive bundle of nerves with his mouth. His tongue felt cool against your overheating cunt, but you had no time to dwell on the sensation as he got to work immediately, sucking and licking your clit. You bucked your hips at the strong stimulation of his tongue, but Gazef held your hips fast. His fingers pressed into the flesh of your ass as he held you in place, and you could only squirm futilely under him. Still, he could not hold you down completely, and you took hold of his rich, thick hair, tugging on the strands as he continued his assault, while you dug your heels into his back. You were surprised at how unrelenting his tongue was today. He swapped between long and quick, short licks almost at random. You could not guess at the pattern, and every switch would make you jerk and buck and raise your moans another octave. Once you were as used to his tongue’s assault on your clit as you could be, Gazef would thrust his wet muscle inside your aching pussy, and it would only make you ache for his cock even more than you already did. And he repeated this cycle over and over, until you were soaked—needy—for him.

You whimpered and tugged on his hair again, crying out, “More! Harder!”

His lips shifted—likely in another smirk, but you were too lost in pleasure to even think to look—and Gazef returned to your clit to give it a harsh suck. 

Wetness gathered in the corners of your eyes. You wanted so much more, and he was refusing to give it to you, so you dug your heels into his shoulders and pulled his hair out of spite. 

“Gazef,” you begged. “Please. Your cock.” Even though you knew he always wanted to be careful not to hurt you, you were more than ready for him, for it. “Please,” you whined.

He shoved three thick fingers inside of your cunt, already sloppy and wet from his attention, to the knuckle and groaned at how easily you took them. The vibration rose from the back of his throat, a low bass so deep that you could feel the sound in your thighs. But, against your clit, it was enough to send you reeling into pleasure. With only one of his hands holding your hips down, you were able to buck up and grind against Gazef’s face. His tongue continued moving as you rode out your orgasm, your throat already sore from the screams that passed your lips with every violent wave. Stretched as they were, your walls tightened around Gazef’s fingers, clutching his digits as if to suck them in further. 

When you were done, your mouth was dry, and your body felt light despite the sudden bout of exhaustion from the force with which you had finished. You barely responded as Gazef stood and unburdened himself of his clothing. Keeping your eyes open was enough of a task by itself. 

You didn’t even move when Gazef gripped your legs again and lifted them. His torso—and the delicious, well-developed muscles of it—pressed against the backs of your thighs as he settled between them and leaned forward, onto you. Before, he would never dare to put his weight on you, but you loved the heft of him in such an intimate setting. Forcing your eyes open, you took a deep breath. He had bent you in half, your ankles resting on his shoulders as he took hold of his cock to direct it into you.

“Gazef,” you moaned. The sound was soft, almost a whisper, and he looked up from the space between your bodies. His shaft, wide and veiny, was in his hand.

“Yes?” he inquired. There was an intensity in his gaze that you had never seen before. 

“Fuck me,” you said. It was barely an order. 

He pressed the head to your clit—you moaned from the slight friction—and moved it down, along your slit. When he pushed inside you, you breathed out sharply and moaned again, savoring the sensation of his cock spreading you open. You loved his girth, the way his cock nudged and rubbed every sensitive part of your walls on the way in or out of you. The initial thrust was slow, careful as ever, but something changed when Gazef bottomed out inside of you. He gave a ragged grunt when he pulled his hips back and thrust them forward, quickly this time, the force of his movement surprising the air from your lungs.

Your cunt squeezed around him at the rough movement, and you fisted the sheets beneath you. 

The lust in Gazef’s eyes only grew with the sight of you enjoying him so much. Never before did he dare to put so much strength into his thrusts, so worried was he that he would cause you pain. But you were begging for more and rocking your hips up to take more of him inside you. That initial movement set the pace for the rest, and he practically pulled out before shoving his cock back inside. His hands gripped your hips again to pull them up higher. With his renewed grip, you could feel how tender your skin was—he must have held your hips tight enough to bruise, but you had barely noticed with the pleasure that overpowered you. The new angle had his erection filling you up more than before. His hips were snug against the backs of your thighs every time he bottomed out. 

The longer he continued to fuck you senseless, the more noises Gazef made. Every thrust forced a harsh breath or grunt from his mouth. He didn’t even get this worked up when he sparred.

And you only spurred him on. Your earlier exhaustion was forgotten in favor of the pleasure Gazef was visiting upon your body now. You begged and moaned and cried out for him, every breath forced out in supplication, drowning out the wet, vulgar sounds of his cock slipping in and out of you. 

From above you, Gazef watched you closely: every face you made, every noise you uttered, and every word you formed. He said nothing, but the weight of his gaze was enough to drive you crazier.

Gazef's thrusts were steadily growing sloppy. He no longer pulled almost all the way out before thrusting back in. You knew that he was close. Leaning back slightly, Gazef reached his hand between your legs to bring you to orgasm yet again. You yelped and bucked towards the touch. Your clit was still sensitive from your first orgasm, but you were so turned on that you wanted to cum again. Gazef's thumb was rough against your bundle of nerves. He didn't tease. Instead, he moved like he wanted to make you cum before he could finish. 

Between his cock and the quick movements of his thumb, you were overwhelmed by pleasure. You no longer retained the ability to form words, only desperate moans and pants and whimpers. With his lips pulled back, Gazef ground his teeth in concentration. You could feel his desperation in the way he ground his thumb against you. He didn't want to cum before you, but he could only move his hand so quickly.

When you finished again, your walls pulsing around his throbbing cock, Gazef released an animalistic roar and finally gave in to pleasure. His entire body stiffened when he bottomed out in your cunt for the last time, but his cock throbbed inside you, emptying out rope after rope of thick cum. You milked him all the while as if you were trying to encourage him to pump even more.

With both of you done, you could feel Gazef's body grow slack. He grunted. "I don't want to pull out," he said. His voice was rough from his misuse of it. 

"And I don't want you to pull out of me," you agreed. You felt so full of his cock—despite the fact that it was slowly but surely growing soft—and the warmth it had spilled inside you.

Your husband gave you an exhausted grin. When he did pull out, the movement was slow, reluctant. You felt Gazef's cum following. It oozed out in a rush. His gaze on your cunt felt like a physical weight.

It seemed that neither one of you would be satisfied otherwise any longer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	39. Chapter 39: Gazef POV (mildly NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so two things. I wrote something no one asked for, which is a Gazef POV chapter. If anything it’s kinda eh since it’s canon but not actually relevant to the story. You don’t even need to know what happens here to read the rest. Whatever. But I had fun writing it, and I wanted to add it.  
Second thing is that I decided to tack on two more chapters because I’m bad at keeping to my intentions. I already knew that I had no self-control so WHATEVER. 😂😂😂  
Anyway, enjoy this nonsense!

Brain picked up his snifter and knocked it back, draining it of the amber liquid.

“I do have to say. Ever since you became king, our drinks have become significantly better,” Brain commented, his expression satisfied.

Gazef leaned forward and filled his glass with brandy again. Idly, Gazef wondered how many glasses Brain had already finished off while he was still nursing his first. Picking up the brandy, he made sure to slide the stem between the middle and ring fingers of his left hand before cupping the wide bottom of the glass. His wedding band clinked against the stem, reminding him of its existence.

“I’m glad you approve,” Gazef finally responded. He looked through the side, watching the way the light bent through the liquid.

“Why are you brooding so much tonight?” Brain asked.

Raising his brows, Gazef inquired, “Am I?”

“Yes. You are,” Brain said. “Is your little bi--”

“Brain,” Gazef warned, stern. He did not want to hear his best friend call his _ wife _ a _ bitch_.

“Fine, fine.” Brain forced the corners of his mouth up in a tight smile. “Is your wife causing you trouble again?”

Sighing, Gazef wished that he had not admitted to Brain what you had said that evening. But he had thought that the two of you were over. Done. That there was nothing left to reconcile. You had been so hurt, looking down at him with eyes full of tears even as you spewed what you had thought of him. Initially, you claimed. He wanted to believe you. He really did. Even when Gazef was hurt the most—_angriest _ the most—he had still missed you and wanted to see you again. It was why he hadn't said anything to his advisors about the fight.

He still loved you.

But he, between days of trying to train his body into forgetting you, slipped. He had one too many drinks with Brain one night and told him what you had said.

Now, Gazef knew that he shouldn’t have done it. He figured out as much right at that moment when he discovered you and Shalltear standing across from Brain in the hallway, Shalltear’s eyes filled with rage, indignation, and protectiveness. And yours with tears. You had smiled so sweetly at him, so sweetly that the combination of your teary eyes and tight smile wrapped tight around his heart and hadn’t let go since.

But, at the time, it had seemed like a good idea. Some of the weight had lifted from his chest.

“Please try to be kinder to her,” Gazef said.

“That’s not what I asked.” Brain scowled.

“But that’s what I’m asking _ you_,” Gazef hissed in return. When Gazef looked up, he realized that Brain had been leaning forward, his hand on his left knee and elbow bent on the right. 

Brain huffed and practically threw his back against the plush cushions of the couch.

“Brain,” Gazef explained patiently. “I am asking you to please have patience with (Name). She is still like a child in some ways though she is getting better. And I should have realized what was going on with her mother.” He sat back on his own couch with a sigh, relaxing the muscles in his back that he had tightened without realizing.

“How the fuck were you supposed to know?” Brain asked.

For a beat, Gazef said nothing. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Exactly. She was very good at keeping the fact that she was fucking up her kid behind closed doors.”

“Exactly,” Gazef mirrored, making eye contact with Brain, who huffed.

“Fine. The queen. Or (Name). Not the little bitch. Better?”

Gazef grunted. “That’s the last time I want to hear those words from you. Do you understand me?” He fixed Brain with an exasperated look.

“Yes, your majesty,” Brain responded, placing one arm in front of his abdomen and the other behind before leaning forward in a mock bow.

“Not this again.” Gazef sighed.

Brain grinned and grabbed his forgotten snifter from the table before finishing his brandy in one go. “You should finish your drink before I finish the bottle,” Brain warned, a grin on his lips. There was already a bit of a slur to his words.

Glancing at it, Gazef realized that they were already half of the way through. 

“Anyway. You never said why you were brooding,” Brain reminded his friend.

“I was not brooding,” Gazef insisted half-heartedly.

“Brooding. Not brooding. Looking for answers in your brandy. Whatever you want to call it. I would not recommend the last one, by the way. Some people might think you crazy if you try,” Brain recommended with a wave of his finger. 

Gazef threw back his own drink and placed it on the coffee table between them. This time, he indicated that Brain should pour with a wave of his hand.

“Yes, your majesty,” Brain said with a duck of his head, but he did lean forward to pour brandy into the glasses before he grabbed his and started sipping at it. 

Though he said nothing, Gazef tried to hold back a groan. Brain’s behavior almost wanted to make Gazef cut the evening short. You were waiting in your shared bed with a book. He just wanted to go back and bury his head between your thighs again, hear you cry out in lavish pleasure as you tightened your legs around him. Some part of Gazef marveled at how wonderfully you were adjusting to a life of marital bliss when you had been nervous about taking his cock. He had watched you glancing down nervously even as his fingers were buried knuckle deep inside you. 

Gazef had to adjust how he was sitting. He was thinking too much about you. “I was thinking about (Name),” he finally said.

“Why?” Brain asked. He finally managed to keep his snide remarks to himself.

“After our”—Gazef cleared his throat—”wedding night, I realized something about myself that I think I would have preferred to stay to unaware of.” Silent, Gazef remembered the sight of you under him—after he had prepared you—some minor anxiousness swimming in your expression as you looked up at him, your small hands reaching up to clasp around his neck. You looked beautiful in the light of the fireplace, especially when you told him that you wanted him. He could feel his cock throb at the thought of your legs wrapped around his waist, trembling with nerves, as he eased his erection between the lips of your cunt. He remembered the slick heat of your walls tightening around him as if they were trying to push him out even as you encouraged him forward with your sweet moans. He had known that he was too big for your virgin hole, but Gazef still _ wanted _ to be balls deep inside you.

Brain opened his eyes wide and shook his head. “The anticipation is killing me.”

“I.” Gazef cleared his throat again. “No, no. It’s irrelevant.” 

“Just tell me,” Brain said. “If you can’t tell me, then who can you tell?”

“I think I’ll just keep it to myself, thanks.”

“Gazef,” Brain looked tired of this evening. Perhaps he could be convinced to cut it short without Gazef having to do it and be accused of stealing off to his young bride again. 

Instead of responding, Gazef leaned forward and picked up his brandy. He was the one who tipped it back this time, and Brain made a triumphant noise and finished off his drink, as well. The liquor burned, but Gazef didn’t really notice it any more. At least, he didn’t notice it at first. Maybe he’d change his opinion after another couple of drinks.

“I think I enjoyed taking (Name)’s virginity a little too much,” he said.

Brain’s eyes widened in surprise. Clearly, that statement was not what he was expecting. “What do you mean, too much?”

Your nails sunk into Gazef’s neck as he pressed more of his cock inside you. “_Stop me if it hurts_,” he groaned, voice ragged, already too lost in pleasure. He had not paid attention to his own needs all evening, and you had taken a while to prepare even though he loved every second of it. 

But the best part was that your cunt gripped him like a vice.

All you could do was whimper and arch your back. You moaned. “_More_.”

You were so innocent and so tempting at the same time. Even though you had not known what to do with his cock, the way you kept looking up at him for guidance with your hands wrapped around it only made him harder. And when he was fucking you, you arched and moaned and encouraged him. You were feeling so good, and it was your first time.

Fuck, he had felt like he was corrupting you.

“Knowing that I was the first man that she touched,” After a moment’s consideration, Gazef added, “that she _ took_, made me want her more.”

Nodding, Brain stuck out his lower lip. He looked simultaneously impressed and horrified. “I didn’t really need that image in my head, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Gazef said with a laugh. While he realized that the whole conversation was horribly out of character for him, there was a point to mentioning all of this _ unnecessary information_. “Am I a dirty old man for enjoying deflowering my young bride?”

Brain sighed. “I think I’m going to need another drink if I have to answer that question.”

Gazef shrugged.

Having finished that drink, Brain was actively slurring his words. “I think that many men have that fantasy.”

“That’s not an answer,” Gazef said.

“I’m getting to it,” Brain protested. He huffed. “And she is beautiful even if her personality could use some work.”

Gazef said nothing.

“But.” Brain paused. “You are a dirty old man,” he confirmed.

Gazef rolled his eyes. “Thank you for the advice.”

“Any time.”


	40. Chapter 40 (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been really shit about writing smut recently, which is awesome because I pretty much only write smutty fanfiction. >.> But I finally finished the chapter. All the others are also half finished. I just have to actually stop being a bum. ;-;

You awoke to find an empty bed, which you found rather odd. When you stretched out a hand to the space beside you, it felt cool to the touch. For a moment, you thought about nothing but the sensation but, as you allowed your mind to embrace wakefulness, you considered that, perhaps, you had not slept for long. But even that theory was discounted when you moved your leaden gaze to your husband’s bedside table. Your eyes, accustomed to the dark, vaguely made out the time on the clock face though it took a few moments.

It was quite late. 

Of course, you didn’t have to go get him and bring him to bed. The juxtaposition of the cool night air and the warmth under the covers was one such convincing argument for staying right in place, but the lingering images of your dream had left your body in a state that only Gazef could satisfy. Your fingers were nothing when compared to the sheer girth of his cock.

You pushed the covers from your shoulders only to immediately consider attempting to satisfy yourself. After all, if he wanted to spend the night in his study, then he very well could. Leaving him there would certainly be much easier than having to get out of bed. However, the moment you closed your eyes, you started to think about Gazef’s naughty hands in your dream—how they pinched and groped and caressed your body. You remembered the sight of your husband curled around you, his cock pumping in and out of your slick cunt as you squirmed and shifted. It really was very annoying that he chose tonight to get lost in his work. Or perhaps he fell asleep at his desk, again. Either way, he was not beside you, and you knew that nothing short of him would satisfy you tonight.

Reluctantly, you abandoned the bed for your robe and slippers and then headed for Gazef's office, which was, thankfully, not too far away. 

After a brief knock on the door and no answer, you just opened the door. The first thing you noticed was the chill of the room. The fire had long gone out. It must have been embers around the same time as you fell asleep. Continuing your observation of the room, you found your husband. As suspected, Gazef slumped forward in his chair with his chin tucked against his chest. 

You quietly closed the door behind you and walked over to Gazef. Sitting down on the edge of his desk, you just watched him for a moment. He always woke up so early before you that you never had a chance to see him asleep. He was very peaceful.

"Hey," you leaned in and whispered. Placing a hand on his cheek, you slowly roused Gazef from his rest. His beard was coarse under your fingers.

With a couple of blinks, Gazef was awake and immediately responsive—a habit he picked up after years of having to wake up and function at a moment’s notice. "(Name)?" he asked.

"Hey," you said and pressed a kiss to his cheek before you sat back.

Gazef looked around for just a moment before focusing on your robe-clad form. "I fell asleep in my office again," he stated.

You nodded in response.

With a sigh, he brought both hands up to his face and rubbed his eyes. Gazef looked at the surface of his desk and started organizing the papers that were strewn about it. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Just after three." You idly watched him make quick work of the papers, put them in a folder, and place them into the appropriate place in the bottommost drawer before he straightened his back and sat up in his chair. His work was always so careful and neat.

Gazef yawned and then looked at you. "Why are you up, anyway?"

"I woke up. Couldn’t find you. So I figured that you were in here."

He nodded in response. "Well, I thank you for waking me before I completely ruined my neck. Again."

"Sure thing," you said and leaned in to give him another kiss. You appreciated the quiet moment. There was something nice about being awake when most of the staff and guards were asleep.

For a moment, both of you were silent, and Gazef’s eyes roved over your body as if he finally realized exactly what you were wearing. Though it was concealed in the warm robe and nightgown you wore, your silhouette was much more obvious in the tighter construction. It would have been _ scandalous _for a man other than your husband to see so much of your form: the soft curves of your breasts and hips, as well as the pleasing lines of your legs. Gazef’s close inspection had your body warming. You remembered the reason why you woke. 

"Come here," Gazef said.

You raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

With a small laugh, you moved the one step closer and sat down in Gazef’s lap with your side tight to his chest. "I’m here."

Gazef placed one hand on your ass and the other on your knee before slightly tightening the first. Once he had a good grip on your ass, he responded, "So you are."

Giggling, you leaned against him and looked up.

"So why did you come find me, anyway?" he asked.

For a moment, you didn’t respond, just hummed in consideration. 

And Gazef patiently looked at you, a small, innocent smile on his face. His eyes even stayed focused on your face instead of trailing down to look down the front of your nightgown. The hand on your ass squeezed again as if to remind you of its presence. The warmth of his body was both under your ass and thighs, and behind your back. Well, this position was certainly more comfortable than just being exposed to the night air; however, you had the sneaking suspicion that you were soon going to be exposed in a very different way. 

"I woke up and saw that you weren’t in bed," you responded, the picture of innocence. 

He nodded thoughtfully. Then Gazef didn’t waste much more time: he undid the tie on your robe and rucked up the bottom of your nightgown until it all sat on the tops of your thighs. With a groan, Gazef pressed his fingers into your already soaked depths, and you took two of his thick fingers with no complaints. Instead, you pressed your head back against his right shoulder before rolling it back and then to your right to expose your neck, your left arm hooking around his side to grab hold of his jacket. Gazef took the hint and momentarily took his hand off your ass to tug the fabric in his way as he sought to pepper your skin with heated kisses. When his teeth came down on your skin, you jerked in his lap.

Underneath, his cock more noticeably pressed into your bottom.

Squirming your hips, you were satisfied to hear—and feel—Gazef’s moan. You had been warm and wet and needy ever since you woke up, and you were quite satisfied to find that your husband was happy to fulfill those desires.

Gazef pulled his fingers out all the way, and you whined with disapproval, but the loss was short lived. Almost immediately, he swiped his thumb up from your dripping hole to press it against your clit and then replaced his fingers in your cunt. You made a satisfied noise and arched your back now that your walls were stretched once more. He steadily pumped them in and out before switching to rubbing his thumb in circles around your button.

These ministrations continued until he stuffed you full of three fingers, and your clit was hard under the attention of his thumb. 

A wet spot on your nightgown formed just under the opening of your thighs. 

Your body was overheating so much that you shoved the robe from your arms as your lips moved against Gazef’s. His mouth was just as hungry as his fingers, which plunged in and out of you until you were so wet and needy for the girth of his shaft that you tightened your thighs around his hand. 

"I want your cock," you begged the moment you broke to breathe.

Gazef breathed hard, his eyes glazed with lust as they immediately sought out the sight of your filled cunt. Exhaling hard, he pulled out. Though you missed the stretch, you eagerly stood from his lap to toss your robe aside and pull your nightgown overhead. Your husband watched you expose your skin with greedy eyes while he undid his pants and pushed them down. The slit on the head had a shiny smear, and another clear bead of pre-cum gathered there almost immediately.

For just a moment, you grew distracted at the sight, wanting to taste for yourself.

But then he met your eye and patted his lap. You stood with your legs on either side of his and held onto the desk while you leaned back, his left hand on your hip and the right on his shaft.

Gazef directed you onto his cock, the position and girth filling you immediately, the motion slick and smooth with all of the lubrication that your body had already produced. Letting out a soft gasp, you settled into Gazef’s lap, overwhelmed with the fullness you felt in this position. You let your head fall against his left shoulder as the thumb of his right hand rubbed lazy circles around your clit to return your body to the previous level of arousal. For a few moments, you stayed just like that, squirming in his lap, stretched out on his thick cock, and constantly shifting your feet from the ball to the heel. There was something even better than usual about just being so full, especially while your walls tingled and twitched around Gazef’s erection. 

His left hand snuck up from your hip, the fingers and palm caressing your skin all the way up to your neck, where his fingers splayed out around the left side of your jaw. Gazef’s pinkie curled around the corner of your mouth while his big thumb steadied the rest of his hand in the juncture of your jaw and neck. Slowly, he angled your head toward his face until your lips were close enough to his that he could press them close. You gasped and moaned into Gazef’s mouth as he switched from his thumb to his fingers, which grew more insistent against your clit. 

It felt so _ naughty_.

The knowledge that anyone could walk in—though it was highly unlikely—while you were on full display behind the king’s desk had you falling more and more.

You whimpered into Gazef’s mouth. The more this interaction continued, the more you pushed back into his lap, or you ground your ass into his lap.

In between kisses, you could hear Gazef’s little moans. They just made more slick flood your walls.

When the two of you finally broke, you moved your head to the same position as before. The only difference was that your chest heaved with the force of your breaths. You opened your eyes to the sight of Gazef watching you. His eyes strayed down your chest. The hand still on your jaw dropped to your breasts. Fingers tugged at your left nipple, then dragged to the right, and played with it until both were pebbled. Meanwhile, between your legs, Gazef was now rolling your clit between his fingers. Your breath hitched.

You stayed in the same position all the while, your eyes focused on his.

Gazef groaned. "Fuck," he said in that same tone of voice. "You feel so good."

Whimpering, you tried to bring your thoughts in some semblance of order. "_You _ feel good."

He huffed out a laugh, and you felt the movement of his chest, you were pressed so tight against him. Deep inside you, his cock twitched.

"I don’t mind having you at my mercy like this."

Your response was just the clench of your walls around his cock. You certainly felt like you were at his mercy. 

A smirk spread on his lips, and you had the feeling that he felt it. Whenever he looked at you that way, you knew that you were going to get thoroughly taken.

You moaned pitifully at the sudden loss of his fingers.

Instead, his hands moved to your waist and pulled you off his cock as if you were weightless. 

He stood up shortly after.

Then, he directed you forward, and you realized what he meant for you to do.

Continuing on that path, you flattened your torso on the flat, wide surface of his desk—hissing at the cool temperature of the surface as your bare and heated skin made contact with it—and rose to your tippy-toes. You were almost shocked out of the lust that threatened to drown you, but Gazef ensured that you went back down.

Gazef released a low rumble at the position and the way you backed your ass into his front, his big hands surrounding the curve of your hips, instead. It was almost a relief to feel his warmth since the desk was stealing yours. When he reached the apex of your cheeks, he gave them a little squeeze that had your cunt clenching. You keened and squealed as you lifted your feet higher off the floor. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw as Gazef bit down on his lower lip and gave your right cheek a light spank. Squeaking again, you rolled from the balls of your feet to your heels and back again. The movement had your ass momentarily pressing against his hips. Unfortunately, the height difference meant that his delightful cock was just a little bit too far away, but you felt the loss acutely. Even if he hadn't been expressly fucking you before, you were just so _ empty _ without it. 

He pressed the tips of his fingers just barely into your dripping heat before pulling them back and winding around your hip to slide along your slit.

You whimpered at how close you got to being filled again—even if it was just with his fingers. Having just had a taste made the new anticipation even more painful than it needed to be.

He leaned in close, the underside of his cock pressing to the top of your left cheek, as he placed his hand on the desk beside you. You felt his body shift lower, shaft now pressed against your ass.

"You’re so nice and sensitive tonight," he whispered so low that you almost missed it. "Is this what you wanted when you came to find me?" 

Though Gazef wasn’t often dominant, when he did decide to play that role, your body always reacted so strongly. You remembered that night after Jircniv’s coronation, how Gazef had denied you your orgasm until you were begging for it. A full shiver passed through you, from the very top of your head to the bottoms of your feet.

"Yeah," you admitted. It was hard to get your thoughts straight with how much you just wanted to get fucked. "I woke up." You paused as you took a shaking breath. "From a dream."

"What kind of dream?" he asked. His left hand kneaded your ass.

You whimpered. The longer you went without getting filled, the more desperate you got. "One with you."

"Yeah?" he prompted.

"And you were touching me."

"Like this?" To punctuate his question, Gazef’s movements grew rougher. Your clit was completely hard at this point. His fingertips easily slid around the button with how much slick there was.

"No," you said. "One of your hands was on my." You gasped. "My breast. And. And you were holding hips still with the other. As you f-fucked me."

His cock twitched against your ass, and you lifted your hips closer to him by standing on the balls of your feet again.

"Still, huh? So you were on top?"

"Yeah," you breathed. Ever since the pressure of his fingers increased, Gazef hadn’t given you even the slightest quarter. 

"That sounds nice. But it’s not what you want now." There wasn’t even a hint of a question to his tone.

You shivered. "No."

"So good and honest," he praised.

Your cunt clenched again, and you closed your eyes as you pressed your forehead against the desk. 

When Gazef pulled his hips and legs back from yours, you mewled. However, you didn’t have to wait long because the tip of his cock—cool from the night air—pressed against your hole and then shoved all the way inside you in one, smooth thrust. Gazef’s hips were tight against your ass. He didn’t move. But the bliss from _ finally _being filled was too much. You gasped as your walls clenched down on his thick shaft in orgasm. Gazef didn’t even pause: his fingers continued to move against your clit as you rode out your orgasm, stretched all around him. You were completely slack on the top of his desk as you came down. When Gazef pulled his fingers away from your clit, you shivered. From above you, he breathed out hard. Then both of his hands settled tight around your hips. 

Gazef pulled back until the glans just peeked out of you, and you gasped, your body still overstimulated so close to your orgasm. When he shoved his cock back inside, you almost screamed.

"Too much," you whimpered. Your last coherent thought got lost in your babble.

He steadily rocked in and out of you.

"Fuck, fuck. Gazef!" you arched forward, pressing your breasts to the already-warm surface of the desk. You _ loved _ being overstimulated. It was just last week when you discovered this particular preference, after Gazef had you cumming three times in a row with no down time to speak of. The last time, around his cock, had been the strongest.

He hadn't been able to hold back. He painted your insides right then and there. 

The thought of getting another creampie had your walls clenching. 

From above you, Gazef was grunting hard, the sounds beastial in the best way. You dragged your fingers to the edge of the desk, grabbing hold to steady the rocking of your body some. At the same time, your husband curled over your body. You could just barely feel his breath fanning across your naked back, and you shivered. The heat from his body made the cool, night air even colder.

You could feel and hear his thighs slapping against yours with every thrust, the pull and drag of his cock inside you overwhelming all of the other stimuli. It felt so good. You wanted him to come undone, just like you had, to feel the evidence of all his desire for you spilling down the insides of your thighs.

"Fill me!" you begged. Your eyes filled with tears at the hard, rough stimulation, the rub of his shaft all along your walls.

Gazef growled with every thrust, with every pump. His earlier teasing was gone, replaced with a single-minded need to finish inside you. Though the two of you had been fucking constantly (and Gazef finished inside you every, single time) for almost two months ever since that first time, the thought of him cumming so much that you would definitely get pregnant this time had you shaking with need.

"Please!" the breathless plea broke from your lips. 

Gazef’s hips pressed tight against your ass while his cock started to twitch deep inside you.

You caught your breath while he leaned forward and pressed his sweaty forehead against your back.

"I should have taken off my clothes," he muttered.

In response, you laughed. As Gazef finally pulled out, and his cum inevitably went spilling out following his exit, you realized that you might have been a bit too loud. Hopefully, the servants were either asleep or far enough away that they didn’t overhear.

"Are you going to lay there for the rest of the night?" Gazef teased. 

You looked over your shoulder to find him rubbing his cock clean with a handkerchief, his jacket open and the top few buttons of his shirt undone. His hair was just as sweaty as it felt earlier, and it stuck up in strange angles, as if he had just run his fingers through it. For a moment, you said nothing, instead appreciating his disheveled state and the sight of his hand moving up and down on his shaft even though he was already only at half-mast.

"Yes," you finally decided and then closed your eyes again. 

Gazef laughed. His steps drew closer before his hands settled around your hips and gently pulled you off the desk to instead seat you in his lap again.

"Rude," you chided. 

He huffed out another laugh in response. Gazef’s breathing already stabilized, unlike yours, and you tried not to be annoyed that he always recovered so much faster.

"I’m also going to get cum all over your pants."

"I had gotten much worse things on other pants before. I think they’ll survive," was his response. 

You rolled your eyes. 

"Besides, I like seeing you dripping," Gazef added, squeezing your thigh meaningfully before his eyes took in the full sight between your legs.

Well, you couldn’t deny that the perverse part of you also enjoyed it. Gazef took his statement a step further, moving his hand between your legs to press the drops threatening to spill back inside you. You felt another wave of lust.

You leaned in close and then whispered, "If you keep this up, then you’re going to have to take responsibility and fuck me again."

Gazef closed the distance to kiss you, his fingers starting to slowly plunge in and out. When you broke the kiss, he kept his forehead pressed against yours. "Well, if my queen says so, then I’ll be happy to oblige."

With a grin, you leaned in for another kiss. It seemed like you weren’t done for the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really wanted to add the desk sex and more creampie scenes. It’s okay. I know I’m trash.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to try and actually finish this fic without taking a break again! I just need to add some stuff to the next one and write about half of the last.  
See you on the other side, buckos.

The carriage ride was incredibly difficult.

Though you and Gazef had decided to break up the trip into three days, you were still already well on the way into y0ur pregnancy, and your usual motion sickness had amped up significantly when combined with morning sickness.

You were desperately staring out of the window to try to not completely lose the contents of your stomach, and you could feel Gazef's concerned eyes staring into the side of your face. His hand gently flattened atop the one that was resting on the swell of your belly.

"Do you want to stop?" he asked.

"We just stopped, Gazef," you whined. "The driver probably _ hates _ me at this point."

"We will stop as many times as you need. I already warned my parents that it'll take us some time to arrive at their estate," he said. "And I'm sure the driver understands," he added.

Dropping your head to the back of the cab, you looked at your husband for a moment. You didn't want to tempt fate into making your nausea even worse. Returning your eyes to the window, you conceded. "Fine. Just a few minutes. I think a walk might help."

Gazef knocked on the cab and stuck his head out of the side of window. "Can you please stop again?"

You vaguely heard the driver respond before the carriage came to a stop.

Hopping out of the door on the other side, Gazef came over to your door and opened it to help you out. The driver had initially tried to open the doors for you and your husband—as was his job—but Gazef said that it was not necessary. He preferred to help you himself.

Gazef held your hand as you slowly made your way down the c0uple of steps attached to the carriage side. Ever since you hit the seventh month, your ankles had decided to stop cooperating with you. Once you were on solid ground again, you breathed out heavily. The December air was brisk, but it was better than being in the carriage. For a couple of moments, you just inhaled and exhaled and, thankfully, the nausea started to recede. You were certain that it would simply return the moment you sat down in the carriage, but you didn't really want to think about it.

About ten feet from the back of the carriage was the royal guard on horseback, and behind them was the other carriage containing all the luggage and presents that you were bringing with you. More guards were bringing up the rear. Two of the men had already dismounted, probably after they saw Gazef exit the carriage.

"Excuse me, driver?" you asked.

The young man bowed as you directed your attention to him. He had also stood up from his seat at the front while everyone was waiting around, anyway. "Yes, your majesty?"

"How much longer will the trip be to the estate?" you asked. 

"About three hours."

You had to try very hard not to groan out loud, but his expression still faltered—very likely, your despair had bled into your expression. "And how much longer will it be if we keep taking breaks?"

He just frowned.

"Please be honest," you said quietly.

"Based on the last two days, I would say. Four hours."

At the response, your eyes widened.

"And maybe another half an hour, depending on road conditions. These roads aren't used often, and they're in some amount of disrepair, and the cold doesn't help."

The sound of four more hours of this hell made your patience instantly fry. "Thank you," you said, voice devoid of all emotion.

The driver quickly looked over to Gazef, who just shook his head and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Both of you walked to the line of trees in silence, where you leaned against one. The two royal guard who had dismounted followed shortly after. Feeling the tell-tale sting of tears, you tugged at Gazef's shirt until he stood in their way. Your husband leaned in close as you retreated even more into your coat, hands tight together in your wrap the moment that Gazef had stood where you wanted.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly. You could see his breath fogging in the cold.

The trip to your in-laws' estate for Christmas and New Year's Eve was supposed to be a fun, relaxing time. But you underestimated just how poorly your body would respond and, at this point, it would simply be faster to just tough it out and finish the trip to Gazef's parents. You also certainly didn't want to be the spoilsport and ruin the few weeks Gazef had to take a break. And that reason was why you didn't want to burst into tears now. In fact, you had been getting much better about controlling your emotions, which is why the mood swings that the pregnancy brought about had been bothering you so much.

Biting down on your lip, you tried to force back the tears. You even tried to dig your perfectly manicured nails into your hands as part of the effort. Unfortunately, your eyes seemed quite intent on the tears that they had already started developing, and they slipped from your eyes.

Gazef brought his hands up to your cheeks and wiped away the trails. He didn’t remove this hands when his fingers finished what they set out to do.

"(Name), please talk to me," he said. 

“I’m just tired of constantly being sick. I thought it would be fine to take the trip. I didn’t think that we would have to stop every few minutes,” you whined quietly.

“We haven’t been stopping every few minutes,” Gazef said.

“It feels like it. I’m sure everyone is sick of me at this point.”

Frowning, Gazef leaned even closer and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hands dropping to your waist. The thumb of his right hand slowly dragged up and down your side. “I’m not sick of you.”

You didn’t know why, but his words just made the tears flow faster. Instead of saying anything else, you pressed your head against his chest, and Gazef loosely wrapped his arms around your shoulders. Though it took you a few moments, you relaxed and were able to stop crying. You rubbed at your face, annoyed that you started at all. When you tried to lean back, he tightened his arms.

"What are you doing?" you asked quietly.

Gazef pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I just like having you close to me," he said.

In response, you just made a non-committal noise.

"And you know what else I like?" he asked.

"What?" you inquired.

"You." Kissing your forehead again, Gazef added, "One could even say that I love you."

You couldn't help the small smile that blossomed on your lips. "I love you, too."

"That's good," he responded with a smile of his own. Once the exchange was over, he let you lean back. "Do you think you can return to the carriage?"

"Yeah," you said.

Once the two of you were back inside, you rubbed your hands together. The air was cold enough that your appendages very clearly did not enjoy it. Gazef took your hands into his much larger and warmer ones. You just sat there quietly.

"Good?"

"Very good," you responded. "I will steal your warmth."

He huffed out a small laugh.

The carriage started moving again, and you sighed. Gazef noticed. He removed one hand from yours to wrap it around your shoulders, instead. "You should try to nap."

With a sigh, you said, "I don't know if I can."

"You can always try. Even just closing your eyes might help."

"Fine," you said. At the very least, it was a reason to cozy up to Gazef's side, not that you particularly needed one. He moved his legs forward until his back was no longer completely flat against the cushion so you could lean your head against his chest.

"Is that good?" he inquired.

"Yeah," you said. Currently, the way you were seated was comfortable. You were sure, however, that it would no longer be comfortable soon enough. That moment never came.

*

Gazef called your name and rubbed your cheek with his hand.

In response, you just made a sleepy noise and tried to shake his hand away from your face. Your movement was not terribly effective as you could only move your head so much with your cheek pressed against Gazef's very solid chest.

"Come on," he said. "Wake up. We've arrived."

You opened your eyes just a little and looked up at your husband's face. "What?" you asked. Sleep still clung to your limbs, and you felt too lazy to move or even open your eyes that much further.

"We've arrived at my parents' estate," Gazef said.

"Already?" you asked, your speech somewhat slurred.

"Yes." But Gazef was not rushing you. He was letting you take your time waking up. 

However, you noticed that the carriage was no longer moving. Sitting up, you rubbed at your eyes.

Beside you, Gazef still had his arm around your shoulders. When he moved it back, he rolled his own shoulder a few times.

"Is your arm stiff?" you asked quietly.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Sorry," you muttered, still very much so sleepy. You didn't want to leave the carriage, but you did admit that a bed would be a much better place to rest.

"It's okay. Were you comfortable?" he asked.

You nodded slowly.

"Then it was worth it."

Snorting out a small laugh, you just shook your head. 

Gazef hopped out of the carriage and walked over to your side to open the door so he could help you out. Meanwhile, you sat in place, not moving much, as you blinked and looked around at the inside of the small cabin.

"Come on, (Name)," he said.

You nodded and then stood up, your shoulders hunched forward as you made your way towards the doorway and then took his hand. The way down the little stairs was even more precarious than usual, and you were happy to be on solid ground again when you made it.

All around, you noticed servants bustling back and forth as you walked towards the doors of the estate. They bowed forward hastily before returning to their work. You were too tired to even really acknowledge them beyond a nod.

By the time you made it to the front door, you were much more awake, in part due to the brisk, December air as well as the walk. When you walked inside, you instantly saw Rena and Marcus. They had been walking over to the front door.

"(Name)! Gazef!" your mother-in-law called. She looked particularly delighted to see you.

"Hello!" Gazef responded.

Marcus just nodded at the two of you.

"Hello," you echoed, still somewhat groggy.

Rena pulled you into a careful hug before saying, "I'm so excited to see you!" She really did look excited. The usual warmth that she exuded was there in full force. When she pulled away, she grinned. "How are you doing, sweetheart? Was the drive over okay? Is the baby okay?"

The veritable bombardment of questions had you blinking slowly.

Immediately, Rena frowned. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Mom. Mom," Gazef caught her attention with a hand on her arm. "She's fine."

Now that your brain had a chance to catch up, you nodded in agreement. "I usually have terrible motion sickness. And the carriage ride paired with the pregnancy really didn't do me any favors so I ended up taking a nap."

"But you're feeling better now?" she asked you, appearing even more concerned than before.

You nodded. "Just groggy." As if to punctuate your statement, you yawned.

Rena visibly relaxed. "Okay. Good."

"You worry too much," Marcus said.

"How can I not worry? Unlike you two, I know what it’s like to have a little one on the way," she threw over her shoulder. Her candid statement had you blushing. Turning back to you, she asked, "Do you want to rest or would you like to take tea now?"

After thinking for a moment, you said, "Tea."

She grinned. "Excellent."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victorian society (and I’m mostly basing the setting off the Victorian time period other than the very obviously modern—and American lmao—speech) was very prudish about sex and, as a result, even talking about pregnancy wasn’t really a thing people did. So that’s what that little interaction there at the end is about, in case anyone was wondering.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More plot without even the littlest bit of smut? Weird lol.  
Enjoy! :D

As you slipped in and out of your nap, you tried your hardest to fall back asleep. You didn't want to wake, to have to go back to being the queen, or to stop reclining on your husband's surprisingly comfortable chest. But your neck was starting to hurt from being at such an odd angle to accommodate for your growing belly. You shifted so that you were laying on your back.

"Can't sleep?" he asked. 

After a moment, you admitted, "Not anymore, no." But you kept your eyes closed. The two of you continued to lay together in silence, which was only interrupted by the soft sound of a page turning. Gazef was still reading the book that you had given him. You reluctantly opened one eye—the one not on the side of your face that was currently being squished against his chest—to take a look at his progress. While your husband was not the fastest reader, you could not truly consider him to be slow, either, which was impressive considering that he had only learned to read about a decade ago. He had doubled the number of pages that he had read before you fell asleep, so about another forty. You decided that you had not been asleep for much more than an hour, and you closed your eyes again even as you swam further and further into consciousness. 

"Are you enjoying the book?" you muttered half against his chest.

"I am," he said distractedly. At the very least, he seemed interested.

"That's good," you responded.

You started to move the hand that was on his abdomen up and down, slowly and gently.

From the corner of his eyes, Gazef glanced down at you before returning to the page. "Thinking about something?"

"Not really," you said. Your mind was still blank from your nap, and the sleepiness that tugged at your thoughts made it difficult to focus. "Just tired," you said simply.

Gazef curled his head forward, bringing you up with him ever so slightly, to press a kiss to the top of your head and then lay hack down. In response, you looked at him and made the motion of a kiss in his direction. He smiled. Returning your head to its original position, you stretched your toes and wiggled your feet. You were comfortable. The whole day at your in-laws' estate had been comfortable, especially now that you had taken a nap on your husband's chest. You never had a chance to just spend the day with Gazef before your little vacation so you were happy that you had made the trip out here despite the nausea you experienced on the way (and likely will experience going back home). The pleasant silence of your mind after your nap was a welcome contrast to all of the noise from before, but it didn't last long. It never did. You started thinking about what Gazef had told you long ago, about your uncle and how he had wanted you executed. Again, you tried to push your curiosity away. It didn't matter, and that meager satisfaction of knowing was not worth enough to ruin this time with Gazef. 

Still, you wanted to know. You had been thinking about it quite a lot during the last couple of days. And you also knew that it was better to be honest with him. 

"Gazef?" you asked.

"Yes?" was his response.

"Uh, there has been something bothering me recently," you said.

"What is it?"

For a while, you didn't know how to say the words. You looked at the fireplace, the soot stains left by the flames on the stone and the fire that was steadily burning above them. In that time, Gazef put his book down and turned his attention to you.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he placed the hand with which he had been holding his book on your back. 

"Before. When we." You paused. "Argued."

Your only real argument had been back then, almost a year ago. Certainly, you had disagreements from time to time, but there was never anything major and especially not on the scale of your fight. In response, you could feel him tense slightly under you. "What about it?"

"You said that uncle wanted to have me and mother executed. It was the reason why you went to her, and everything turned out the way it did."

Gazef sighed. "He did, yes."

"But what I can't understand is why." You finally bent your neck to look up towards your husband's face, and you found that he was staring at you. 

"Do you really want to know why?" he asked. At the mention of the entire matter, he looked exhausted in a way that you hadn't seen for a while. Everything had been going well recently. There was no reason for him to look so tired. You instantly knew that it was the fault of the matter you drudged up. 

It took you a minute or two. You considered his question, the effect it had on him. Perhaps you would be better off not knowing, with all the horrible things your family had done, that your mother had kept from you. But you wanted to know.

You nodded. "I do."

Nodding, Gazef started to shift. "We should sit up."

"Is it so serious that I need to be seated for it?" you joked.

Gazef gave you a small smile, but it didn't displace the displeasure in his eyes. "Come on," he coaxed.

Reluctant, you sat up and moved over as Gazef shifted so that his back was resting against the back of the couch. He put his arm around your shoulders and shifted his torso so that he was angled towards you. Placing a hand on your belly, he gently rubbed his thumb up and down on the surface. For a while, he just looked down at it. You wondered about what Gazef was thinking so seriously. But, instead of asking, you just let him take this moment, and you put your own hands over his. He smiled at the movement and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

"Your uncle wanted to have you and your mother executed, yes," he said. As he spoke, he raised that same hand to your cheek and cupped it. You relaxed into his touch. "And I'm glad that I brought the matter to your mother when I did, even if everything that happened after could have gone better." Then Gazef put his hand back on your belly. "I don't want to imagine a world where I never got to know you or love you."

"Gazef," you said. You pressed close to his body, and he slightly tightened his arm around your shoulders. Once again, you rested your head against his chest. "I love you," you said.

"I love you, too," he responded. "Which is why I don't want to tell you this story. I know that it will hurt you. But, if you truly want to hear it, then I will respect your wishes."

You shrugged. "I would rather know." Looking up at him, you reached a hand up to cup his cheek, and Gazef pressed his face against your hand as you done earlier with his. You could feel the scratch of his beard against your palm, the softness of his skin above it.

He was still reclining his cheek against your hand when he began to speak. "Your uncle's madness was not something that just appeared." Then Gazef straightened his head. "It developed over many years."

But then Gazef said something that you hadn't even begun to expect. He brought up your cousin.

"Renner. He loved you. You knew that, yes?"

Slowly, you nodded. "Yes. I loved him, as well."

"But only as family?"

You furrowed your brows. You didn't like the implication of his words. "Of course," you whispered.

He hesitated and frowned. "Renner's feelings for you went far beyond those of family."

You felt sick, a grimace curling the left corner of your mouth. "What?"

"I only saw him after he was already an adult, but your uncle told me that the prince always indulged you."

Nodding, you said, "Yes. He did. He would always spend time with me when I was a child. He was my best friend. Whenever mother brought me to the castle with her, he would end up babysitting me. We explored the castle grounds. He called me his 'little doll.'" You spoke the words slowly, thinking about the implication of Gazef's all the while. Now, you found something nefarious in the things that had been so innocent to you before.

"I don't know when he began to view you as more than his cousin and friend. He was never terribly forthcoming on the matter. He would only say that he always knew that the two of you were destined to be together." Gazef sighed. He shifted again, his body tense. "Renner. Convinced. The king that he would not marry any woman but you."

You hugged Gazef closer. Though you didn't want to listen to this story any more, what little he had told you made sense. But, more importantly, it made all the little holes in your childhood make sense. Your mother had always disapproved of marriage within families. She made that opinion abundantly clear right before you had your debutante ball. Every case of marriage between cousins—or, worse, brothers and sisters—resulted in more damage than it was worth. The children would be sick or deformed, if not in body, then in mind. Under no circumstances were you to even indulge a suitor who was even minorly related to you. Not everyone shared your mother's opinions, so marriages between cousins occured, even if they weren't terribly common. Your mother had turned her nose at them, as well. 

"He was twenty-three. Old enough that he should have been searching for brides. But he didn't want anyone else. When your uncle approached your mother about the matter, she was disgusted by it. He told me later that she looked at him like a fool for even indulging the idea. She argued that a marriage between you and Renner would do no good for anyone, citing the cases of incest within the royal family before yours—distant cousins, the Denselfs."

You nodded your head. "Yes. She told me about them. The illnesses and disorders that destroyed their family grew worse with every generation until they had no more viable heirs."

"Yes. In addition, she argued that, because both she and your uncle only have two children between them, they would benefit more from marrying them to others and accruing more money, titles, and bloodlines. Nothing your uncle said would convince her otherwise. And he gave up. But then your mother stopped bringing you to the castle with her. It was a consequence that he did not expect.

"Renner did not expect it, either. He was outraged that your mother tried to keep the two of you apart. He started throwing tantrums. That part I was there for. Your aunt had to convince him that your mother was simply upset, and she would allow your visits to resume once she was happier. She then suggested that he might expedite the process by trying to look for brides. Renner refused.

"He only got worse. It didn't happen immediately. But he grew angrier. He would throw horrible tantrums: hurt people, destroy his rooms, and push everyone away. The servants were terrified of him. The king knew that he could not let the people see what Renner was turning into. But seeing his son fall apart hurt your uncle like nothing else ever had before. He started blaming your mother then.

"But your uncle also knew that Renner could not succeed him in this state so he decided to send him away. There is a doctor who helps people with such issues, but he lives far away and in the mountains. Of course, it makes sense. He treats very rich and important people. No one can know what he does or for whom.

"So your uncle sent Renner to be treated, and your aunt intended to make the trip with him to ensure that her son would arrive at the doctor's safely. Officially, the story was that Renner was going to continue his education, that he was interested in theology."

You nodded, moving for the first time in what felt like hours. "I remember hearing about that."

Gazef nodded, as well. "And you remember what happened to him, yes?"

"I do. The coach went off the side of the mountain, and Renner and my aunt died," you said. But you had not imagined then that the reason why your aunt and cousin had been on that road was because he started going mad—and all because of some misguided love for you.

"There was another driver that day, following the coach in which your aunt and cousin sat. His job was to bring all of the clothing and furniture that Renner would need during his time with the doctor. He said that the part of the road where they were driving was too small to truly support the size of the coaches they used, but there was no other way up. Renner had been given a sleeping draught to help ease the trip. He must have woken up. The other driver heard sounds coming from the coach. At first, the sounds were relatively quiet, but they quickly turned into screams. He said that it sounded like someone was pounding on the side of the coach, and he assumed it was the prince because that was when the queen began screaming. The noises only grew worse. They became so loud that his horses started growing antsy, and the horses on the coach in front of him started to pick up speed. The coach driver tried to get them under control, but the pounding started happening again, and it was worse, like someone was throwing themselves against the side of the coach. Between that pounding and the nervous horses, the coach went off the side of the road."

"That's horrible," you said. It was the only thing you could say. You didn't really want to think about the fact that your cousin killed himself and his mother because he went mad from his obsession with _ you_. 

"Do you want me to stop?" Gazef asked.

"No." Shaking your head, you wrapped your arms tighter around Gazef's torso. He held you close.

When he resumed his story, his voice was quiet. "Your uncle was beyond himself with grief. He didn't want to believe that they were dead even as he looked upon their bodies. He had always loved his wife and son. He and the queen had so much trouble having children. Renner had been their miracle."

"I remember," you said.

"Yes. The king did not respond well to his grief. It destroyed him. His paranoia grew ten-fold. He started isolating himself. He wouldn't listen to his advisors but, particularly, your mother. Your uncle refused to be alone with her or speak to her outside of meetings. The empire began to fall apart. The people grew hungry, and they started to rebel. He thought that your mother paid them to commit such treasonous actions against their king so he started sending soldiers after them. Any nobles who voiced their discontent? They were obviously working with your mother, as well, and they would be arrested and their possessions taken away." Gazef stopped speaking. He seemed to be considering whether or not to continue. But he must have made his decision since he spoke again. "He also thought that you somehow seduced his son."

You looked up at Gazef. Furrowing your brows, you opened and closed your mouth. "I was a child."

"Yes," Gazef agreed. "I told him as much. But he didn't listen to me. He thought that you were like your mother, and the two of you somehow plotted everything to get the throne. Even if you were truly innocent, then he still believed that your mother somehow manipulated you into doing her bidding, that you did something to make Renner fall in love with you the way he did."

The earlier nausea from hearing that Renner was in love with you returned with the knowledge that your uncle thought you had intended for him to feel such a way.

"It must have been difficult to watch all this unfold," you said.

Gazef nodded. "I wish that I hadn't let it get as bad as it did, but there was not much I could do as the king's bodyguard. I suppose I could have gone to your mother earlier, but it was a betrayal that I didn't want to commit. It was something I did only when I realized that it was the only means left." He sighed heavily, and you tightened your arms around his torso. Gazef was right. This story was incredibly unpleasant and made you feel uncomfortable. Part of you wished that you hadn't asked, but the other part claimed that it was better to know. For so long, you had thought that the coup occurred for no reason and, since Shalltear had informed you otherwise, you never understood why your uncle did the things he did. Now, you understood. However, it didn't mean that you had to _ like _ the reasons why everything happened the way it did. 

"Well, it's all long past now," you said.

The left corner of Gazef's mouth curled up into a half-smile. "You're right."

"And everything is fine now," you said. "The people are happy with you as the king. Everyone seems to be doing better. And we have a little one on the way." You felt a little embarrassed to mention the baby so openly when it was so improper, but the two of you were the only people in the room. 

Gazef leaned closer to your face and brushed his lips against your cheek. His left hand moved to gently press against your belly. "You're right. Everything is looking up."

You had to move past what happened. You didn't want to dwell on it, both for your and your child's sakes.

Both of you sat quietly. Gazef had opened his book again, and you just listened to the crackling of the fire. It was a pleasant enough way to spend your time even if your brain kept thinking back to Renner despite your newfound distaste for your cousin.

After another fifteen minutes or so, there was a knock at your door.

"Come in!" you called, looking over your shoulder.

One of the maids opened the door and walked just a few steps in before curtsying. "Dinner will be served shortly."

"Thank you," you responded.

"Thank you," Gazef said over his shoulder, as well.

The maid curtsied again and closed the door.

After Gazef finished the page, he put his book down. You reluctantly let your arms fall away from him as he stood and then offered his hand to you to help you stand. The rounder you became, the more difficult it was to stand up from a seated position. Really, it was starting to grate on your nerves. You could only imagine what standing up would be like in another month and a half. After all, you had seen Lady Bloodfallen pregnant many times, and you remembered how slowly she would waddle the closer she got to her due date. 

Gazef held out his arm, bent at the elbow, and you took it. Both of you slowly made your way to the dining room while you chatted.

When you arrived, Rena and Marcus were already sitting at the table. She sat up and waved her hand towards her person.

"Come on, come on! Sit down! We have to make sure that you and the little one are fed," she said excitedly.

You laughed in response, amused by her while Gazef rolled his eyes.

Once you made your way over to the table, you sat down, and Gazef pushed your chair closer to the table. Then, he sat down beside you. As usual, Rena and Marcus sat across from you.

The dinner was light and casual, with plenty of jokes made by Rena at Gazef's expense, and it was really something that you needed after your earlier conversation. Try as you might, it was difficult to forget about what Gazef said. The topic of your cousin had become a somewhat difficult one after you realized that he had played a part in developing your biases, but it was only worse now. You understood why Gazef had been reluctant to tell you the truth, and part of you wished that you had listened to him. Not knowing had to be better than having this new weight on your mind. However, you also knew what you were like when you were curious about something. Either fate would be a different form of consumption. 

When you were getting ready for bed later that evening, you said, "I hope we're going to be like your parents at their age."

Gazef looked up at you and winced.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

"Do we really have to be like them?" 

"What's wrong with that?"

For a moment, Gazef didn't respond. Then he winced again. "I'm enough like my father as is."

You laughed. Then you looked at him, still wincing, and started laughing even more. However, Gazef was absolutely right. He was terribly similar to his father.

“Well, you’re not as quiet as him,” you pointed out. 

He shrugged. “Do not think that he’s as quiet as he appears. He’s just like that around people he doesn’t know very well.”

You nodded in understanding and slowly got into bed, happy to lie down again. Gazef lay down beside you, and you took the chance to place your head on his chest. Idly rubbing your hand on his torso, you said, "You know a lot about my family."

For a moment, he said nothing. "I do," was his simple answer. 

Neither of you said anything or moved for a few moments.

"Are you still thinking about what I said?" he asked.

"Yeah," you responded.

Gazef's hand wrapped around your shoulders and gently squeezed. "Nobles think that bodyguards or servants don't listen or retain the things that are said. They rather forget that another person is there than have to think that all of their horrible secrets are on display."

You looked up at him. "You're one of those nobles now," you pointed out. "Worse. You're royalty."

In response, he laughed and rolled his eyes. "You're right. I'm the worst of the worst."

But Gazef never forgot that the servants or guards were there. In fact, he was friends with his royal guard. There were many casual occasions where you had seen them chatting or laughing together: many of the men who served him now had worked with him only two years ago—even though it felt like a century had passed in that time. You thought about all the things that your mother said to you, usually in front of Alexandra or Arabella. Though she clearly never cared about who may or may not be watching, you had always been acutely aware that you had an audience: it only made your shame burn hotter.

"Your uncle was also a good friend of mine, as I said before. So I knew more than even most guards."

"Do you think that my mother knew what was going on in the castle? That uncle thought all those things about her?" you asked.

"She likely suspected. But he was so paranoid that she was spying on him that he kept all of his affairs secret. I only knew because he trusted me." Gazef paused at that statement and then huffed out a laugh, the sound different from the usual. His tone was mocking. "But I suppose that trust was misfounded."

Frowning, you sat up—with some effort—and looked straight at his face. "Don't you sound like that." You batted at the tip of his nose.

Gazef looked up at you with some surprise and didn't even try to stop your hand.

"Don't you sound like you regret doing the right thing." You pouted.

He gave you a small smile and then took your still wiggling hand into his. Pressing a kiss against your palm, Gazef said, "I don't regret it. But I do recognize that I betrayed him."

You grimaced. He wasn't wrong. Then you lay back down. The return to a more comfortable position had you releasing a soft sound.

"I told you. Standing by and doing nothing out of some misguided sense of loyalty would have meant that we would never have been together." Gazef kissed your hand again, which was still in his. "And the thought of that scenario is worse than anything else."

"Well, admittedly, you wouldn't know what you would be missing," you said.

At your statement, Gazef abruptly turned his head to you and frowned.

"I'd either be dead, or we would have no real occasion to interact. And you would be none the wiser about what could have happened."

"You're very bad at comforting people," he said.

"I know," you responded. "But am I wrong?"

Shaking his head with a chagrined expression, Gazef said, "You're not. But your words don't make me feel even a little better. In fact, they just make me feel worse."

You gave him a bashful smile. "Sorry."

He sat up slightly and kissed your forehead before laying back down. "I make this request in the nicest way possible: please stop talking."

With a small giggle, you nodded. "Can do."

"Thank you," Gazef said.

Neither of you said anything. There was nothing else to really say, either. You drifted off to sleep, still cuddled close to your husband's torso.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh well, that chapter got heavy. :|  
Tbh, I was really debating posting this chapter at all. But I decided to do it anyway just to fill in a couple of gaps that remained here and there and also give you all the full picture of just how fucked up Rea's family is.  
I promise the next one will just be some fluff and smut to make up for this nonsense lol.  
Till then!


End file.
